


Expendable

by ErosAndApollo



Category: Hellboy (Comics), Hellboy - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Austria, Canon - Comics, Central Europe, Cute, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Flashback, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Folk Tales, Friendship, Gen, Hellboy - Freeform, Hellboy Comics, Hellboy actually shows EMOTIONS, Hellboy cries, Hurt/Comfort, Mythology - Freeform, Non Explicit, Roger is underrated, bprd, hungary - Freeform, liek dis if u crie evry tim, major character death eventually, sfw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-06 12:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15194609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErosAndApollo/pseuds/ErosAndApollo
Summary: Immediately after the events of The Conqueror Worm, Hellboy is sickened with the actions of the BPRD and decides to quit. However, he can’t bear to leave the Homunculus, Roger, behind with the people who felt it necessary to implant a bomb inside his body, and so invites Roger to come with him. They travel together as a pair separate from the BPRD, solving mysteries and chasing urban legends as they go.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Man, I haven't written anything in a long time! So I reeeaaaally like Hellboy comics. Roger is a character who is only in the comics, and is introduced pretty early on and is actually like a super awesome character and I love him a whole lot. I know a lot of people mostly just like the Hellboy movies, and they're super awesome too, but hmu if you want to read the comics and I can show you how to get all of them for free (or for not-free if you're okay with paying.) Anyways, thank you so much for reading, and I hope to write more of this

Hellboy fumed silently from the shadow of the dilapidated wall he was resting against. His lit cigar emitted a faint trail of pearlescent smoke, the inky vapor contrasting against his furious, glowing eyes. He watched as Roger spoke with a group of BPRD agents a couple yards away, animatedly describing the events of the past few hours. He struggled to keep his rage in check, as is the usual for him; but this time, he could barely contain himself. He had never before been so angry with the organization that legally adopted him as a boy. Any sort of forgiveness was no longer an option.

The Battle of the Conqueror Worm was no simple dispute for the BPRD field agents. Hellboy was still having a hard time coming to terms with the reality that he almost lost his fellow agent, Roger, after the Homunculus was possessed by the vindictive spirit of the Worm. Closing his eyes in anguish, he remembered how Roger begged him to push that detonator, to blow him to pieces in order to prevent him from being subjugated by the foul entity. If Manning had been the one there instead of him, Roger would be long gone by now.

_Fucking Manning_. Hellboy spent a brief second fantasizing about all the different ways he could rearrange the vertebrae in the pitiful man’s spine. _Oh look, a swan._ Just before setting out for the last field mission, Manning had pulled him aside to let him know the truth about Roger, and to present to him the detonator that would put a swift end to the newly awakened being. Roger had spent five-hundred years laying dormant in a Romanian basement, a twisted science experiment in which someone could create an artificial human being out of blood, herbs, and energy. Never experiencing sentience or consciousness, Roger had laid prostrated on that wooden operating table for centuries, abandoned and alone; until one Liz Sherman and her fellow agent, Bud Waller, had happened upon him by chance. Falling under some sort of fugue, Liz had approached the empty vessel and unintentionally channeled her own life energy, her fire, into Roger, thus awakening him. Unfortunately, this was a very disruptive and disorienting ideal for Roger, and in his newfound consciousness, had accidentally killed Bud.

After he had had a chance to calm down, Roger was discovered wandering the castle grounds of his former home, awash with guilt over what he had done and begging for God to punish him. Hellboy and Kate Corrigan had apprehended him then, hoping that he would be able to shed light on Liz’s strange condition, for during this time, Liz had begun to rapidly decline. All of her power had gone into Roger, in order to ignite the spark that had laid dormant within him for all those years. She had no substance, and had become a shadow of her former self.

Upon discovering the consequences of his resurrection, Roger had immediately requested to see Liz. Upon his arrival in her hospital room, he had returned every last speck of the lifeforce that Liz had given to him, rejuvenating her and saving her from death, while simultaneously leaving him cold and desolate once more. It was a heartbreaking ordeal, as some of the agents, like Hellboy and Abe, had become quite fond of the Homunculus.

Three years after these events, Roger was still comatose and moments away from being dissected by the BPRD when Abe Sapien had interrupted the procedure with a solution; an artificial energy source was to be implanted inside of Roger, allowing him to live and act as an agent of the BPRD. During the installation of Roger’s power source, however, a bomb was simultaneously implanted within his chest cavity; a fail-safe, should Roger act out in any way. For this bomb, Hellboy was handed the detonator just before the beginning of the Conqueror Worm mission. Manning had entrusted Hellboy with the responsibility of destroying Roger, should he lose control of himself and begin to rampage. Just remembering the nonchalant action of dropping that inconspicuous silver tube into his red, calloused hand caused Hellboy to shiver with disgust.

_It’s like we’re not even people_ , he thought angrily. _We’re animals, liabilities. We’re a fucking commodity to be exploited and destroyed once we start gettin’ nasty._ Hellboy chewed thoughtfully on the ragged end of his cigar. He remembered with pleasure the pointed response he had given Manning, wishing he could have hurt the bastard more.

“Excuse me?” he spat, hardly believing what he was listening to.

“An incendiary bomb just large enough to--” Manning had replied, before being cut off.

“Excuse me?!” Hellboy roared. He was overcome with emotion, with grief, disgust, hatred, shame. The BPRD had put a bomb into Roger, the sweet and inquisitive Homunculus. A bomb.

“We had no choice! He killed Bud Waller and sucked the life out of Liz Sherman!” Manning sputtered. He had always been quite intimidated by the hulking, red half-demon and he did not like it when the brute started raising his voice. He knew enough about the late Professor Bruttenholm’s charge to know that bad things happened when he got angry.

“Jesus Christ, he was an abandoned science project gathering dust in a Romanian basement for five-hundred years! When Liz zapped him to life, he freaked out a little. Who wouldn’t?” Hellboy spat. He felt sick to his stomach. It might have been the fact that he had nothing but two Cuban cigars and a Red Bull for breakfast but he was pretty sure it was this asshole standing in front of him. “But how many lives did he save, including mine, when he melted his brother, the giant human fat monster? Then didn’t he voluntarily zap Liz back to life at the cost of his own life?”

Hellboy paused to stick Manning with a withering, hateful glance. Then, he said, “I’m sick about what happened to Bud, and so is Roger. I know it. But this sort of thing happens in this line of work! Liz Sherman is one of my best friends...but when she was eleven, she burned thirty-two people to death. When are you gonna put a bomb in her?!” Hellboy was almost screaming by the end of his speech. They had done nothing but fought for the BPRD since the moment they had all become agents; him, Liz, Abe, all of them. And this was how they were repaid.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Liz Sherman is human. Roger is not.” Hellboy chuckled incredulously at this, shaking his head and looking down at the ground. “I don’t like this any more than you do. I’m just telling you what I’ve been told -- Roger cannot be allowed to jeopardize other agents. He is considered expendable.” Hellboy’s mouth opened slightly in shock. Expendable. He would never forget the sound of Manning’s voice as he had nonchalantly dropped that crucifying adjective.

Manning continued. “Take this.” He proffered the silver device to Hellboy.

“What is it?” he had asked, struggling to keep the venom out of his voice.

“Don’t touch the top button. That’s the detonator for Roger.” Hellboy froze, for he had flipped open the small silver lid, revealing the inconspicuous, red button resting underneath. He stared imploringly at the small red disc; red like him, red like the hand that literally held Roger’s life. The red filled his entire vision. All he could see was red. Manning’s voice snapped his attention back to the small, balding man. “If anything goes wrong with him up there, you don’t take any chances. You use that.” He stopped, looking at the stricken expression on Hellboy’s face. “I’m sorry.”

Hellboy turned away from him wordlessly, pocketing the small, deadly device. He opened the door to the room they had been speaking in. Turning slightly, he said, “you know, I’m not human either, remember?” Manning maintained eye contact, the image of Hellboy’s sorrowful, golden eyes leaving trace images on his own long after he had left. “When are you guys gonna put a bomb on me?”

Hellboy missed whatever Manning had to say next. He stormed away from the cottage, his black hooves leaving flattened prints in the mountain grass as he moved to where Kate was standing a dozen meters away. Their conversation had left a rock the size of his right hand sitting within his belly. Fucking Manning.

Snapping back to the present, Hellboy looked up as Roger left the two agents behind and began walking towards him. His cigar was dangerously close to falling inside of his mouth, so he flicked it into the grass and stamped it out on the ground. His left hand trailed into the pocket of his trench coat, absently brushing against the silver tube once more. Roger smiled as he reached him in the shade.

“Hellboy! The agents are very happy with me. They say we did a great job, taking care of that worm,” Roger beamed happily. His body was composed of a material almost like stone, but he still smiled warmly at the other, and his body language was open and relaxed.

“All thanks to you, buddy. Couldn’t have done it without ya,” Hellboy responded, grinning. He clapped Roger on the shoulder warmly with his right hand, for once unafraid that he would hurt someone with the impressive weight of the Right Hand of Doom. Roger was much tougher than most of his friends, however. The Homunculus grinned at the praise. He hadn’t admitted it before, but he looked up to Hellboy above all others. In all that he did, he hoped that the other would be proud of him.

“Thank you, Hellboy. I am just happy that I was struck by that lightning when I was; it blasted that horrible worm right out of me,” he said softly. He was jovial, but Hellboy could tell that he was still pretty shaken up. He could feel the silver device had grown warm in his pocket from touching it for so long, and he withdrew his hand.

“Hey, man...are you okay? I mean, jeez...things got kinda rough back there,” Hellboy responded. He searched the other man’s hardened face, struggling to catch his gaze. Roger was silent for a long time.

“Hellboy...how did you know?” he almost whispered. His body language had become tired, exhausted. Roger looked much older than five-hundred in that moment.

Hellboy’s tail twitched slightly with curiosity. “How did I know what?” he asked. Roger looked up, meeting his gaze with his own opaque eyes.

“How did you know not to kill me?” Roger’s voice wavered. Hellboy wasn’t even sure if he had the ability to cry.

“Shit, man...I just knew. Ya know?” Hellboy hissed. His disgust for the BPRD was rekindled anew, seeing how troubled Roger looked now. “I would never have pushed that dang button.”

“But--! Even though I-I begged you to!” Roger cried, throwing his hands up in frustration. The agents standing in the clearing looked over in curiosity. “I felt that horrible monster inside me...he was thinking for me, moving for me…” Roger was shuddering, his palms pressed firmly against his temples.

“Alright, alright, jeez, just keep your voice down…” Hellboy whispered, peeking over Roger’s shoulder at the congregated agents. “Like I said, I just knew. Whatever happened with that worm, whatever it made you do...I wasn’t gonna do that to you. I wasn’t gonna let the damn Bureau make me do that to you. Okay?” Hellboy whispered loudly. The last part came out a little more forcefully than he intended, and he winced at the sound of his own voice. God damnit, can’t I be tender for just one freakin’ second?

“I...I…” Roger sputtered. At a loss for words, he dropped his hands to his sides. Looking defeated, he chewed on his bottom lip.

“You’re not expendable, Roger.” Hellboy put his right hand on Roger’s shoulder, and the Homunculus looked up at him. “Don’t you ever let the damn BPRD make you think that, okay? You and me, we’re people. We’re not humans, but we sure as hell ain’t cannon fodder, alright?” He smiled crookedly at the other. Searching his eyes for a moment, Roger smiled softly and nodded his head.

“Thank you, Hellboy,” he replied. “We should probably be returning to the other agents now. They’ll want a report of what happened.” Hellboy stiffened, and removed his hand from Roger’s shoulder.

“Yeah, about that…” Hellboy said softly, staring down at the ground. He could see the dashed remains of his cigar, no longer smoking and covered with ants. “Listen, Roger...I’m not goin’ back to the Bureau.”

Roger narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Hellboy exhaled, wishing he had another cigar right now. “I mean I’m quitting.”

Roger didn’t say anything for a few moments. “You’re not going to be an agent anymore?”

“No. I can’t work for an organization that treats us like garbage. I can’t be part of...that…” he gestured at the group of agents by a landed helicopter. “...when they think it’s okay to put a bomb in someone just because they’re not a human being. Understand?” he growled. He didn’t mean to sound so angry, and he hoped that Roger didn’t feel as though he was angry at him.

Roger picked absently at a loose string on the BPRD vest he was wearing. His shoulders drooped, and he looked disappointed. “I understand,” he said.

Hellboy licked a sore on the inside of his cheek and scratched at one of his filed-down horns. “Well, y’see...I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?” he asked, looking up at the other. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he let Roger go back to the very people who didn’t care if he lived or died.

Roger brightened, and perked up immediately. “Really? You...you want me to accompany you?” he asked, his eyes flashing excitedly.

Hellboy grinned widely. “Yeah, man. It’d be just you and me. No BPRD assholes to worry about. We can just go our own way,” he said, placing a large hand on his own hip. Roger stood there, smiling for a moment, before nodding.

“Yes, I would love to go with you,” he responded. He laughed jovially, his previous dejection lost. For a moment, he had been worried that his hero was going to leave him behind, but he actually wanted him to come along!

Hellboy gently bumped him in the chest with his right hand, a gesture of endearment. “Good to hear, kid. C’mon, let’s go find Kate to say goodbye. After that, who knows?” He laughed, and Roger laughed along with him. Shrugging off his BPRD vest, Roger walked with Hellboy into the clearing, towards the mass of indifferent agents. Kate was standing expectantly off to the side, catching sight of them as they walked over to her. Hellboy wished he would have been able to see Abe and Liz before leaving. He had always hated goodbyes.


	2. The Mouth-Cure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hellboy and Roger respond to a distress call in Styria, Austria detailing missing villagers, murdered animals, and horrifying monsters. I wrote this story and based it off of the Austrian fairy tale "The Mouth-Cure."  
> CW: blood and gore, strong language, religion

“Shit.” Hellboy swore as he desperately cupped his massive right hand around the slightly damp cigarette pinched between his teeth. His smaller left hand struggled with an equally damp lighter, unable to produce a spark. He usually preferred cigars, but the clerk he spoke to in the convenience store they went to in Kapfenberg didn’t know a lick of English, and, faced with the intimidating stare of the red half-demon, was only able to tumultuously proffer a small box of cigarettes.

Giving up and stowing the pitiful cigarette in the pocket of his trench coat, Hellboy glanced over to where the delighted Homunculus was standing just outside the protective cover of the large bridge he was resting underneath. Roger was gleefully staring upwards at the bleak nimbus clouds as what seemed to be a solid sheet of water poured down on top of him. He had both arms outstretched towards the sky, smiling as he blinked the water out of his eyes.

“There is so much!” He called back to his companion, laughing as a loud crack of thunder rumbled the ground beneath their feet. “It is raining so much!”

Hellboy smiled. “Get over here, you.” Roger glanced over his shoulder, grinning widely. “I dunno if you can even catch a cold, but I don’t wanna risk it.” The Homunculus’s warbled reply was lost by another clap of thunder, and he ambled across the muddy terrain to join Helloy under the bridge once more.

“I like Austria. This is a nice place,” he chirped. Water sloughed off of him, making wet pattering noises as they made pools around his feet. He gingerly wiped at his face and licked at his lips. Hellboy grimaced as he felt icy droplets hitting one of his hooves.

“Sheesh, you’d think those scientists put some labrador retriever into you,” he remarked, smiling.

Roger paused. “What is a laboratory retriever?” he asked, blinking rapidly as more water fell into his eyes.

“ _Labrador_ retriever. ‘S a type of dog, loves water. Long hair,” he replied, moving his hands to mimic luxurious, flowing locks pouring past his ears. He pouted inwardly as he remembered that he had always had very little hair, even as a young man.

Roger’s face lit up with excitement. “I _love_ dogs!” he shouted, his jubilant laughter echoing from underneath the cobblestone bridge. Hellboy couldn’t help but laugh a bit, too. The large, grey man’s hitching laugh was terribly contagious. Hellboy couldn’t remember having ever seen Roger this happy before. It was as if there was nothing troubling the other man, whatsoever. His only care in the world was playing in the rain, and enjoying the crisp Austrian air. Hellboy reluctantly remembered that someone felt it appropriate to put a bomb into this happy sucker.

“Alright, alright. C’mon, rain’s letting up and we should get moving,” he said. He began to move out from under the bridge, and Roger quickly moved to follow him. They had left the folks at the BPRD three days ago, and had been roaming the countryside ever since. It was about time they found something to do.

“Where are we going to next, Hellboy?” Roger asked, trying to keep himself from getting distracted by all the little pretty flowers growing alongside the path.

“We’re goin’ on a _mission_ , that’s where we’re going. Just the two of us, like I said.” Hellboy retrieved the crumpled cigarette from his pocket, now confident he would be able to light it.

“A mission? Like the BPRD?” Roger replied. _Man_ , there were flowers everywhere.

“Yeah, but not like the BPRD.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “About a week an’ a half ago, they got a cry for help from a little hamlet near here. Supposedly they got some kind of problem, some of the villagers have gone missing, dead livestock, _yadda yadda_. We’re in the area, so let’s go see what all the fuss is about,” Hellboy explained. He remembered Manning complaining about this particular request, and the fact that it was from a foreign country and seemed to be inconsequential compared to the regular issues the BPRD faced every day. At the time of the request, seven individuals had disappeared and a slough of sheep. The homes of the unaccounted-for showed clear signs of forced entry and a violent exchange at the time of disappearance.

“Oh, okay. That sounds fun,” Roger mused.

They walked together for a long time, admiring the beautiful landscape and the local flora (Roger especially.) After a time, they came upon a small body of water. The surface of the pond was relatively undisturbed and pristine, save for the occasional fish coming up to see who was about. Hellboy mused that the fish here looked quite a bit different than what was usually found back in Connecticut. Roger crouched next to the surface, and called out to Hellboy when half a dozen chub peered at him excitedly from under the water, almost as if they had come to see him. _He’s got some kind of energy about him_ , Hellboy wondered. _Wildlife seem to like him, at least_.

It was another two hours walk until they came upon the church that had initially sent the request for help. Hellboy scrounged around in one of his many pockets until he found the scrap piece of paper he had hastily scrawled the address onto. The ink was barely legible, as he had written with his right hand, but was able to conclude that this was the place. The church was in a meager state, and looked as though it were as old as the town it laid with. There were no electricals along the outside of the building, and no evidence that the church received power in any way. It’s white cement walls were chiped and water stained, and the pointed roof was sagging dangerously on one side.

Visible just a kilometer to the east was the start of the hamlet; small wooden buildings mixed with more modern brick structures lined the cobblestone roads, and crisp, lively vegetation bloomed in every space possible. Bordering the north side was a large copse of trees, taller than any of the buildings within the village. Hellboy remarked that despite the fact that it was only 16:00 CEST, not a single person was seen walking amongst the streets.

“Jeez, I hope someone’s home…” Hellboy grumbled, patting Roger on the shoulder before beginning to climb the front steps of the church. Roger followed, hanging behind the other as he reached the tall, wooden doors. Hellboy lifted his right hand, and gently tapped on the flaking entrance. Despite this, he still accidentally scraped a thumbnail-sized spot in the faded, white paint. “ _Shit,_ ” he swore quietly. “You didn’t see that, Roger.”

“Didn’t see what?” Roger responded, genuinely not having been paying attention.

“Good man,” Hellboy whispered, smiling. A couple moments passed, and no activity could be heard from within the church. Hellboy’s stomach dropped. _I swear, if we came all this way for nothing…_ He was just about to knock again when he was able to hear a pair of very quick, hasty footsteps running up to the door. Hellboy quickly moved down a step, holding his arm outstretched against Roger to move him down also.

Another moment of silence passed, and then one of the doors was opened just wide enough for a single, quavering eye to peer through. Locking onto the slightly disconcerting visages of Hellboy and Roger, the owner of the eye cried, “ungöttliche Schrecken!” and quickly slammed the door. Hellboy coughed and waved his hand as a large cloud of dust descended on them. Roger tried to catch the particles in his hands.

“Alright, alright…” Hellboy grumbled, and ascended to the top-most step once again. Not giving much thought to the paint this time, he knocked on the door once more. “Listen, we’re from the --” he broke off. “I mean, we’re here to help. We heard about the missing people,” he said to the door, hoping the one inside was able to hear him. After another moment, the eye appeared again, still quavering.

“You...you got my letter?” the person said, the eye flickering rapidly between Hellboy’s glowing golden eyes and his filed-down twin horns. Hellboy nodded his head in confirmation, and Roger, leaning out from behind Hellboy’s bulk, smiled and waved even though the eye never left the red half-demon’s face.

The door was slowly pulled open to reveal a trembling woman. She stepped back quickly to allow the two others into the church, standing a full two heads shorter than Hellboy. Her hair was tied up neatly in a bun, and she wore a loose black dress with a cardigan draped over her shoulders. She must have been middle-aged, for her face was lined with wrinkles and her eyes, still slightly quavering, spoke of untold wisdom and knowledge.

“Hey, thanks,” Hellboy said, closing the door once Roger had entered the building. He glanced at the insides of the dilapidated church. The main compartment was about half the size of a dining room, and resting in twin lines before the altar were small, wooden pews. The altar was draped with a frayed, white sheet and rested underneath a collection of decorative candles. Hanging on the wall behind the altar was an enormous painting, depicting Jesus Christ. Candles all throughout the foyer were placed and lit, casting an eerie glow in the rounded spectacles perched on the nose of the woman trembling before Hellboy.

“You have come to help us...oh, danke gott…” she said aloud to no one in particular. She looked so moved, she was almost close to tears. “You read letter? You know what is happening?”

“Uh...why don’t you give us a refresher, lady?” Hellboy said coyly, scratching the back of his head. Roger absentmindedly began investigating the pews, dazzled by the light of the lit candles lining the walls.

“Please, call me Miriam,” she said, laughing nervously. She adjusted her glasses. “You see, we have big problem in town. There is...there is something taking the people, taking them away,” she explained. Hellboy saw that she looked very disturbed. “I pray to God, but this...this is work of devil, Mr…” she trailed off.

“Hellboy,” he responded cooly. “And that’s Roger.” He lifted his right hand to point at the other, who was experimentally poking at the lit wick of one of the candles. This motion allowed Miriam to get a full glimpse of the supernatural nature of Hellboy’s right hand.

“A-Ah, H... _Hell_ boy...you are from...you are of _hell_?” Her voice was trembling, along with the rest of her.

“It’s complicated. Just finish your story,” he said shortly. God, if he had a nickel for every time someone made a big deal about his name...Professor Bruttenholm had always been more of a literal kind of guy.

“Y-Yes, my apologies…” she composed herself. “The people, they are not taken by, by a wolf, or...or _bear_ , they are taken by _monsters_. Some of them...some of them become monsters themselves…” she trailed off, seemingly remembering something of a disturbing nature. “I...I saw one...it came to me...it…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa...they become monsters? What d’you mean by that?” Hellboy asked, waving his left hand as he spoke. He kept his right hand firmly at his side to avoid scaring the woman.

“One of them that I saw, he look...he look like Domi, who go missing...but he was _different_ , he was not the little Domi who come to school on Sunday, not my little Domi…” she clasped her hands in front of her, fighting back tears. She took great, shuddering breaths.

“Different how?” said Hellboy. He was starting to get a little impatient. He wished he could just fast-forward to the punching part already.

“His...how you say, his…” she gestured at the front of her face.

“His _mouth_?” Hellboy supplied.

“ _Yes!_ Yes, it was his mouth, it was...it was so _big_ , like…” she held her palms open in front of her face, a good foot in front of her chin. “It drooped down like _this_ . And his _teeth_! And his shirt, it was covered in blood, oh...it was like monster from nightmare!” she cried, wrapping her arms around herself.

Hellboy scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Roger, you ever hear of somethin’ like that?”

“Don’t ask me, I was in a basement for five hundred years,” he replied.

“ _Toucheé,_ ” said Hellboy. “Yeah, that definitely sounds...horrible, alright. So, tell me...what did Domi do when you saw him? Did he attack you?” he asked.

“No, he...he was only looking. He look at me, but he didn’t hurt me. I could see...it was like for second, he was looking like the old Domi, but then he was the monster again. And he left…” Miriam looked down at the weathered, partially-rotten floorboards beneath them. Roger slowly rejoined the two after completing his inspection, a sympathetic expression on his face.

“I’m sorry about Domi, Ms. Miriam,” he said softly. He moved to put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrunk away from his touch. Grasping the fabric of her cardigan, she chuckled darkly.

“All this...reminds me of old tale my mutter used to tell to me, when I was a girl.” She smiled wistfully. “About King with big mouth.”

Hellboy’s interest was immediately piqued. His tail twitched with anticipation. “A big mouth? You mean like he talked a lot, or like an _actually_ big mouth?” Roger experimentally touched at his lips, and flexed his jaw.

“No, no, like he had big mouth, like Domi did. Here is how story goes…” She cleared her throat, and Hellboy and Roger came closer so as to hear her better. “The King, he make this Witch mad. In her anger, Witch curse him and give him a big, big mouth. He was so upset, he promise that his beautiful daughter will marry whatever man can cure him. So; peasant boy, Sepple, he is resting in the woods one day when the Witch appears to him, and tells him that if he brings King magic fish with five eyes, he will be cured and then Sepple will marry King’s daughter. Sepple runs to pond, and catch fish! So he bring fish to King, King is cured, Sepple marries daughter. The end.” She smiled as she finished.

Hellboy was silent. Roger said, “Wow, I’m glad it all worked out for Sepple in the end.” Miriam nodded enthusiastically.

Hellboy said, “Miriam, do you know if any other folks in town have big mouths now? Aside from this Domi guy?” Hellboy had a sneaking suspicion, but he wasn’t ready to connect the dots yet.

Miriam was silent as she pondered this question. “I have heard of two others who are seen with the big mouths, but I only know Domitri Malinowski. But they are taking the others, they become monsters and then they take five villagers so far.” She wrung her hands in front of her. In that moment, she looked incredibly old and exhausted. _She must know everyone in this town personally_ , Hellboy thought.

Roger stepped forward, and peered into the woman’s face. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We will help you.” She stared at him apprehensively, for he surely looked just as much a monster to her as Hellboy, but smiled and nodded.

Hellboy scuffed one of his hooves against the wood floor. “Alright Roger, I think we’ve heard enough. Let’s get outta here,” he said softly. Roger smiled again at the woman, before turning towards Hellboy.

Miriam said, “Yes, yes, you go now. Please help these people...may God watch over you.” She wiped at her glistening eyes. Hellboy turned and waved over his shoulder at her. Together, Hellboy and Roger exited the church and began climbing down the worn steps to the courtyard.

“That poor woman…” said Roger, scratching one of his ears. “She must have been so scared.”

Hellboy pursed his lips. “Yeah, I would be freaked out too.” He sidestepped a tombstone. “Tell ya what, let’s go into town and see if we can do some digging into this Domi guy.” He looked sideways at Roger. “Something tells me this fairy tale isn’t over.”

 

After a short time of walking, Hellboy and Roger found their way to one of the main cobblestone paths that crossed through the hamlet. By now, it was closer to 18:00 CEST and the sun was beginning to set. Long shadows crisscrossed the walkway as Hellboy and Roger slowly made their way towards the centre of town, peering curiously into the windows they passed despite the fact that every single one had the curtains drawn.

“Where are we going now?” Roger asked. He struggled to keep pace with Hellboy and look closely at all the marvelous things they passed at the same time, such as broken-down wheelbarrows and crooked German directional signs.

“I wanna check out this Domi character a bit more. Town as small as this, they gotta have a family register somewhere, right?” Hellboy said. He dug in his pocket for another of his pitifully small cigarettes.

Roger had paused to pick up a shiny bottlecap, which he quickly stashed _somewhere_ , despite the fact that he didn’t normally wear clothes other than his old vest. After catching up to Hellboy, he asked, “what’s a family register?”

Hellboy thought for a moment. “Uhh...let’s see.” He scratched at one of his horns, thinking of a way he could put it that Roger would understand with his limited exposure to the outside world. “It’s kind of like a big list of everyone in a family, y’know, like all the relatives and stuff.”

Roger smiled and nodded. They walked a little further down the street when Roger asked, “Hellboy, what’s a family?”

Hellboy almost tripped over his own hooves, and quickly righted himself. _Jeez, this poor guy…_ he thought. _He doesn’t know nothin’._ “Uh, a family is like...y’know, the people you love. The people you’re close to...they’re you’re family.” He struggled to keep himself from getting wistful.

“Oh, okay…” Roger responded softly. “So you mean like Elizabeth and Abe? And everyone else back at the BPRD?” He peered sideways, trying to read the expression on Hellboy’s face.

Hellboy was quiet for a bit. “Yeah…” he sniffed uncharacteristically. “Yeah, those guys are my family.” He turned his head so he was looking more to the left, away from Roger and towards the beautiful hills lining the Austrian countryside. “And they’re you’re family too. You’re part of _our_ family.”

Roger kept his gaze on the cobblestones in front of him. He clasped his hands in front of him, against his chest. He felt more warm in that moment than he had even when Liz had emptied her pyrokinesis into him, even when he had used that same ability to burn and melt his malevolent brother. “I have a family…” he said quietly.

Hellboy laughed and playfully knocked Roger on the left shoulder with his right hand. “C’mon man, I’m gettin’ all misty over here. Let’s just go see if this guy Sepple had any blood relatives or what.”

Roger narrowed his eyes. “Blood relatives?” 

“Yeah, like family members who have the same blood as you.” Hellboy flicked his spent cigarette onto the cobbles and stepped on it as he walked.

Roger’s eyebrows scrunched up together. “They have your blood? Like...in a bottle, or…?”

Hellboy laughed out loud, startling Roger. His laugh was very deep and guttural, like a bull’s or a minotaur’s. “No, for fuck’s sake...just means you’re related some way, like you have the same mom and dad or whatever.” He started laughing again, and Roger’s impassive face broke into a big smile and he began laughing as well.

They walked for another couple minutes until they came to a building taller than the rest, and seemingly older. It was primarily wooden, with a brick-and-mortar addition on the eastern side, complete with a chimney and side door. The building was surprisingly nice to look at. There were painted glass windows, and a wind chime hanging by the large front double doors. A table with several chairs was placed in the front courtyard, and the grass was neat and trimmed. A large sign displayed at the front of the stone walkway leading up to the doors read, “BIBLIOTHEK”.

“This is the place, Rog’,” said Hellboy, moving towards the doors. The few windows in the front of the building still showed there were lights on inside, and a flicker of movement in the western wing.

Hellboy didn’t bother with the foolish social custom of knocking this time, and gently pushed on one of the doors. It swung open easily, and the two non-humans entered the library. The inside was densely crowded with all kinds of books, manuscripts, magazines, and etcetera. In the front foyer, there was a secretary’s station with a lamp and an enormous catalogue. Towards the more modern eastern wing, there were several lines of thick bookshelves housing all sizes of material. Hellboy took a breath, and noisily cleared his throat. Seconds later, the sound of footsteps could be heard as the library custodian moved towards the foyer.

“Guten abend! Wie kann ich dir…” the custodian began, but dropped off suddenly after getting a good look at their two newest customers. Hellboy had already been through this all once before today, and he was eager to get to the point. He spoke clearly, and enunciated very carefully.

“Family...registry,” he said, struggling to keep his impatience out of his tone.

The custodian struggled to find their voice for a moment. “F...familienbuch?” they stammered.

Hellboy snapped his fingers and pointed at the custodian. “Ya got it. Family book. Please and thanks.” The custodian nodded vigorously, and held up their hands placatingly as they slowly moved their way to a section of very old, very large books. The custodian placed a trembling hand on a maroon cover, the word “familienbuch” written in small, gold letters down the spine. Bowing, their assistant quickly began to head back to the front.

“Thank you!” Roger called after them. They walked faster.

“Alrighty, let’s take a peek at this place’s dirty laundry…” Hellboy grunted as he hefted the large tome off of the wall.

“I can tell that that phrase is a metaphor of some kind but I have no idea what for in the slightest,” said Roger.

“You’ll learn, kid,” Hellboy replied. “God, this thing weighs as much as Manning’s ego…” Roger laughed loudly at that one. Hellboy dropped the book onto a nearby table and flipped to the Table of Contents. The book was in German, of course, but for the most part, the index just showed where to find last names starting with each letter. Letter “M” started halfway through page 117. “Alright, here we go…”

He gingerly leafed through the moth-eaten pages with his smaller left hand, while impatiently tapping the fingers of his right hand against the wood of the table. The sound could be heard throughout the library. Eventually, he came to page 117.

“I didn’t think there would be so many people living here,” said Roger.

“Most of these guys are dead, I’d guess,” the other responded. “Okay, Abel Madrowich...Barbara Majel...okay, here he is, Domitri Malinowski.” He poked at the name with his right hand, leaving a sizable dent in the thin pages. “Whoops.”

“I saw that,” said Roger. He was trying to contain his laughter.

“ _No you didn’t, now keep your voice down…_ ” Hellboy whispered, shooting the other man a withering look. “Okay, family tree on paaage...612.” He began leafing through the pages again, eventually coming to a section of the tome where every page had a different family tree on it. “Bingo.”

“Family _trees_ , family _registries_...families are kind of complicated,” Roger said to himself, investigating some of the other tomes on the wall.

Hellboy arrived at the intended page, and looked closely at the faded, complex family tree. This family was extensive, dating back to over three-hundred years ago, the current generation having numerous members. Located at the bottom, alongside two other names, was Domi. “Okay, here’s our guy. Looks like he’s got siblings,” Hellboy remarked. “Tamim Malinowski and Bart Malinowski.” He started to move up the family tree, unable to understand the words denoting family relationship, but scanning the names. As he came closer to the top, he called out loudly in triumph. “See! Right here, there he is! ‘Sepple Malinowski, deceased in 1671’. I _fuckin’ knew it_.”

Roger was enjoying Hellboy’s enthusiasm, and came over to join in his excitement. “So...they are in a family together? They have each other’s blood?” he said.

“Yeah, you got it Rog’. This Domi guy is a _descendent_ of ol’ Seppie and that princess,” Hellboy explained. He moved to retrieve a celebratory cigarette from his pocket, but then remembered that it was impolite to smoke in libraries that didn’t belong to the BPRD. “Aw, shit...wait a minute. Miriam said there were three recorded monsters so far...so that could mean Domi, Tamim _and_ Bart are all part of this mess,” he said softly. “God, I hate family drama.”

“It’s like the King’s curse has come back, but only for his _descendents_ ,” Roger remarked, trying out the new word. “But the King wasn’t a monster. Not like what these people have seen.”

Hellboy loudly shut the cover of the volume, and moved away from the table. “Somethin’ stinks about all this,” he grumbled. “Let’s get outta here.”

They made their way back towards the front of the library. Mid-step, Hellboy stopped completely, and Roger bumped into him from behind.

“What is it, Hellb--?” he began before being abruptly cut off by Hellboy’s hand clamped around his arm. Peering over the other’s shoulder, Roger saw that the foyer of the library was now completely dark. Previously, lights had illuminated almost every corner, but now the only light came from outside, pouring in through the ajar front doors. The previously organized and tidy secretary’s desk was now in a state of chaos; papers were strewn over the surface, and an upended inkwell left a black, obsidian trail leaking down the side of the wood. The custodian was nowhere to be seen.

Hellboy turned his head slightly towards the man behind him. “Roger, get ready for a scuffle…” he whispered, as he retrieved his own handgun from his belt. Roger nodded, squaring his shoulders. They slowly moved through the foyer, keeping a close eye on the open front doors. “Hello…?” Hellboy said quietly. No response. They continued circling around until they were able to see out of the entrance, and into the courtyard beyond.

“Oh no…” Roger breathed, taking in the scene before them. Sprawled on top of the stone walkway was the custodian, spread eagled and staring lifelessly back at them. Their mouth opened and closed like a goldfish’s, the last of their life-force draining out through a massive rend in their neck. Hellboy’s gaze traveled up along the stringy muscles and tendons being excavated from the gash, into what appeared to be the gaping maw of a monster.

“Christ on a bicycle…” Hellboy cursed, feeling sweat break out on his forehead. The creature crouched above the desecrated custodian stared silently towards Hellboy and Roger, completely silent and completely unmoving. Similarly to Miriam’s description, it looked like a regular human being save for it’s mouth; the jaw was dislocated and distended down to the collarbone, and it’s twin lips were swollen and inflamed, split cleanly down the middles. It’s teeth had grown longer, barely fitting into the already-enlarged mouth and leaving long ragged gashes along it’s own lips where they impacted the blood red, pulsating flesh.

Roger stared unwaveringly over Hellboy’s shoulder, unable to take his eyes off of the gruesome scene before them. He stepped out from behind his companion, careful to move slowly. Joining Hellboy at his side, he forced himself to make eye contact with the beast. “T…” he said softly. “Tamim…?”

The creature flinched, dropping the unchewed viscera from it’s enlarged mouth onto the wet, blood-laden soil. A low gurgling sound could be heard coming from its throat, and it broke eye contact with Roger. Looking down at the horrific landscape below it, it brought its hands up and scratched at its own face in frustration. Hellboy shifted his weight while he watched the conflicted monster.

“Tamim, if you’re still in there…” he started to say. It didn’t look as if the creature heard him. “We can help ya, alright? Just...give us a sign that--” before he could finish, the creature stood up and bolted away from the two, exiting the courtyard and running down the street. A low keening could be heard coming from the monster, becoming quieter as it moved further away.

Roger immediately ran forward, crouching down next to the defiled custodian. Gingerly, he placed his hands on either side of their face, sadly looking into their desolate, lifeless eyes. Blood no longer billowed from the fatal wound in their neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Using his fingers, he gently closed the custodian’s eyelids. He removed his hands and stood up. Hellboy placed a sympathetic hand on the other’s shoulder.

“We’ll come back, okay Rog’?” he said. His tone was gentle. “We can bury them once we solve this.”

Roger placed his own hand overtop of Hellboy’s. “Okay.”

Stepping around the mangled corpse before them, they moved towards the exit of the courtyard. Peering in the direction the monster had fled, it was clear that there was no sign of it. By now, it was 18:40, and the sky was a myriad of blue shades in the evening twilight. They stepped onto the cobbles, and watched as the last few lit windows in the houses nearby were extinguished.

“It’s getting a little foggy out, Hellboy,” Roger remarked, peering down the street towards an area shaded by an arch of thick trees and bushes. Hellboy turned and looked as well, and saw that it did look like there was a bit of fog hovering over the stones.

“Wait a minute…” Hellboy grumbled, taking a tentative step forward. The fog began to condense and thicken, much more quickly than any natural fog would be capable of. Hellboy moved to stand in front of Roger, watching closely as the translucent, grey cloud began to change shape into one that was vaguely humanoid. “That’s no fog.”

As they continued to watch, the fog completed it’s transformation. Before them appeared a pearlescent, 5-foot column of wispy vapor. The vapor drifted towards them, and as it moved, two lightning bugs flew from the nearby bush. They embedded themselves at the top of the column, giving the appearance of two glowing eyes.

“Is that...a person?” Roger asked, struggling to move out from behind Hellboy.

“Given what I’ve seen already today, I wouldn’t be surprised…” the other replied dryly. As they spoke, the vapor continued to move closer to them. Emanating from nowhere in particular, they could hear a voice like crinkling parchment paper.

“ _Du bist da…_ _you have come in this town’s time of needing…_ ” it whispered. Despite the fact that the apparition’s eyes were mere insects, Hellboy could feel it’s piercing gaze upon him.

“Uh...yeah,” he responded. “Are you…?”

The vapor stopped approaching them. “ _I am the smoke in wind...the moss in pond...I am the Witch of this valley…”_ she intoned. “ _And you are Anung un Rama._ ”

Hellboy flinched. “C’mon lady, all you witchey types know I don’t like that.” He ground his teeth in impatience. It had been, _what_ , 4 days? And he still hadn’t punched anything. Roger waved from behind Hellboy’s back, but once again, he was paid no attention.

The vapor might have been doing something resembling chuckling, but to Hellboy, it only sounded like a breeze ruffling the leaves on a tree. “ _I have solution to your problem_.”

Interest = piqued. Hellboy listened closely, allowing Roger to approach the being as well.

“ _You must destroy the_ Fünf Augen Fisch _...the Fish of Five Eyes…_ ” she whispered. The lightning bugs embedded in the vapor began blinking their lights, giving the Witch the impression of winking. 

Hellboy was slightly disappointed. “A _fish?_ ” He snorted derisively. “You’re saying a dumb _fish_ is causing all of this?”

“I like fish…” Roger said defensively.

The vapor made a sound like a deep breath of air. “ _Return to wasser beyond the church...there, you will find Him…he waits for you...Anung un Rama…”_ she finished, a clear sound of laughter emanating from all around them. With these parting words, she dispersed into the surrounding air. The insects returned to the brush.

“God, I hate that…” Hellboy grumbled, viciously kicking at a stone on the path. The pebble impacted an adjacent tree, stripping a sizeable chunk of bark off of the trunk.

“Hate what?” Roger asked, looking at his red companion. “ _Anung un--?”_

“ _Don’t_ say it,” Hellboy barked, his body language full of anger and tension. Roger shrunk away from him slightly.

After a brief silence between them, Roger said, “what does it mean?”

Hellboy started walking back in the direction they had originally come, towards the church. “It’s a long story. Just don’t say it, okay?” he said softly. He felt bad for startling Roger. Roger nodded firmly. In that moment, he made a strong commitment to himself never to utter those words again. He understood nothing of the reasoning or the history, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he did something to hurt his friend.

 

It took them just over two-and-a-half hours to get back to the pond they had visited just before arriving at the church. By the time they arrived, both Hellboy and Roger were feeling exhausted and eager for this terribleness to end. He didn’t know about Roger, but Hellboy was quite famished.

“Hey, Rog’...I got a question for ya,” he asked the other.

“What’s that?” Roger responded, sidestepping a large pit in the ground.

Hellboy made his way over a fallen log. “Do you even eat?” he asked exasperatedly. He had removed his jacket and was carrying it over one of his arms.

Roger accidentally stumbled over the root of a tree, and quickly righted himself. “I don’t know. I’ve never eaten anything before. I suppose I could try it.” He picked at a spot of caked-on mud on his shin.

_What goes in, must come out though…_ Hellboy thought to himself. _And I’ve never seen anything come outta that guy_. He decided to end his line of questions. They had arrived once again at the glossy body of water, covered in sticks, mud, and the odd insect. 

The pond was relatively unchanged from before. The surface was still completely undisturbed, and the water acted as a great mirror for the heavens, and in it’s reflection could be seen the moon, almost completely full. Hellboy had a very odd feeling.

“Roger...do you hear that?” he whispered coarsely at the other. He monitored his surroundings very carefully.

Roger paused and listened for a moment. “Hear what?”

“ _Exactly_. I can’t hear a damn thing. Not a single cricket, or frog, or...anything.” And it was true. The clearing, aside from the sounds of their own voices, was completely silent. If Roger’s skin had been more supple, he was sure he would have gotten goosebumps.

Hellboy hooked his long coat on an outstretched branch, making sure his handgun was easily accessible on his person. Roger approached the pond once again, crouching next to the water just as before. This time, not a single chub came to greet him. It was as if this entire section of the countryside was devoid of animal life. He tentatively poked his pinky finger into the surface of the water.

“Hellboy, I don’t think there’s--” Before Roger could finish his sentence, a slimy, writhing appendage burst from the surface of the pristine, now turbulent pond, wrapping itself around Roger’s right forearm. He called out in surprise as his arm was painfully constricted.

“ _Roger!”_ Hellboy screamed. He ran towards his companion, watching in shock as the Homunculus was lifted airborne, desperately clutching at the article wrapped around his entire arm. As he was lifted, the remainder of the beast that had constricted him was visible rising out of the pond, and Hellboy could not help but feel surprised that such a thing could fit into such a small body of water.

To describe the creature as a _fish_ seemed grossly inaccurate to Hellboy in that moment. It was more like a wyvern. The creature’s face, focused murderously on the writhing man it had caught in its grasp, was elongated and ended with a tapered snout. It’s teeth stretched longer than Hellboy’s forearm, and definitely not his left one. It’s skin was a mottled grey, pockmarked with oozing sores and ulcers that leaked sticky yellow fluid back into the water from which it came. Patches of hard scales lined its body, and the wyrm’s webbed ears flared atop its undulating head, reaching taller than the trees surrounding the clearing. The monster hissed territorially, the sound causing the surrounding trees and their leaves to shake.

Roger desperately kicked out his legs at the creature, but it held him at a length away from its body using one of several rapidly gesticulating tentacles. Assuring that its initial prey was not in a position to fight back, the wyrm trained its gaze on Hellboy instead. Looking back at the terrible beast, Hellboy could see that it had five piercing, red eyes along the apex of its skull. Hellboy shook his head and laughed incredulously.

“ _Fish,_ my ass!” he bellowed, launching himself towards the aquatic monster. The creature screamed in return, its high-pitched voice reverberating through what could have possibly been the entirety of Styria. “Oh, shut it!” Hellboy growled as he leapt at the creature. He wrapped both arms as tight as he could around its main body, struggling to find traction. The beast was so wet and slippery, he immediately started sliding down towards the water. The monster hooked its nose under Hellboy’s chest and flicked him backwards, causing him to hit the ground brutally hard. He gasped in pain as he hit a large rock protruding from the ground, struggling to reorient himself.

“ _Hey!”_ Roger screamed at the beast. “Do _not_ hurt my friend like that!” While the creature had been distracted with the other man, Roger had been gradually tearing at the supple flesh coiled around his arm and was able to break free from the monster’s grasp. Swinging downwards, he landed on top of the creature’s massive, swinging head, narrowly avoiding one of the many sharp spines running down its back. Gripping one hand firmly around a spine in order to hold him in place, Roger brutally swung his other fist down towards the many pulsating eyes lining the beast’s head, punching the monster with his superhuman strength.

The wyrm screeched again, and shook its head as a wolf would with its prey. Roger held on steadfast, dutifully landing blow after blow on the bloodshot, watering eyes lying underneath him.

“ _Atta boy,_ Roger! Let ‘im have it!” Hellboy yelled from the ground, having recovered from his earlier spill. He cocked his pistol, and took aim at the writhing, thrashing creature. He had never been a remotely skilled marksman, but considering the size of his target, he hoped he would at least be able to shoot it once. Taking several shots, he was able to puncture the slick, undulating flesh before him twice. The creature squealed, backing away from the edge of the pond as bright red blood bubbled from the wounds in its skin.

The wyrm shook its head again, finally dislodging the adamant Homunculus from its head. Roger slipped down the side of the beasts body, and with a smooth motion, the fish monster brought forward a large, multi-taloned claw from the water underneath it. As Roger slid closer to the surface of the pond, the creature caught the man in its grip once again and plunged his flailing body underneath the icy water. 

“Oh, _fuck!”_ Hellboy cursed. While the beast was preoccupied, Hellboy raced towards it once again, this time leaping higher and latching onto the wyrm’s lower jaw. The weight of his body forced the monster’s mouth open, and a distressed keening sound could be heard from within the beast’s belly. “Sheesh, you got some bad breath, Slimy…” Hellboy growled, gripping onto the enormous teeth protruding from the monster’s mouth. He could feel the body underneath him jerking and swaying, and realized with dread that it was the force of Roger’s body thrashing underneath the beast’s claw. He had to act fast.

“Just hold on, Roger!” he screamed down towards the pond, unsure if Roger was able to hear him. He didn’t know how much time he had left, but he wasn’t about to let this slimy asshole kill his friend. Keeping a firm grip with his left hand on one of the wyrm’s hot, slick teeth, Hellboy swung his stone right hand upwards, and pounded on the adjacent fang. The creature snarled, and desperately tried to close its jaw in order to bite the man clinging to it, but Hellboy was too heavy.

He brought his right fist up again, once, twice, and for a third time. On the final impact, the tooth shattered against the force of his blow, leaving a spurting pit in its place. The creature snarled and shook its head, desperately trying to get a look at the adversary clinging to its jaw. Hellboy was about to swing again for the next tooth when he realized with a sickening lurch that the beast was no longer jerking. Roger had gone still.

“ _Aaargh!”_ Hellboy bellowed, his strength renewed by his fury. Swinging his body upwards, he hooked his right hoof in the monster’s lip, using it to gain traction and pull himself farther up the wyrm’s head. The creature gnashed its blood-spattered, yellowing teeth as it burped wetly from having swallowed so much blood. One of its teeth caught Hellboy in the pectoral, and left a long, burning tear down the line of his chest. Hellboy screamed again as he continued to scale the body of the beast. “I fucking _loved_ this shirt!”

As the creature’s strength continued to ebb along with the flow of its blood, Hellboy was able to grab on to one of the spines protruding from its head. Dragging himself upwards, he swung his right leg over and straddled the beast while keeping a firm grip onto the dangerously sharp spike waving in front of him. Yelling with bloodlust, he rhythmically brought his stone fist down over and over again onto the apex of the beast’s head.

“ _Let...go...of...my...friend!”_ Hellboy growled as he repeatedly pummeled the now purpling flesh before him. His blows had completely crushed two of the monster’s eyes, and the creature now thrashed around disorientedly, blinded by pain and fury. Slick ropes of blood were flung back and forth by Hellboy’s swaying fist, the flesh broken and parted underneath his commendable strength. The monster keened and cried, still desperately trying to free itself of the half-demon stuck to its head, but to no avail. Hellboy’s blows had driven down to the creature’s skull, his repetitive strikes splintering the hard bone.

With a last, dying squeal, the creature pitched forward, the remainder of its strength spent. Falling through the air, the struggling wyrm crashed devastatingly into the waterfront, a thick wave of blood spattering the dirty sand as the beast’s destroyed tooth continued to give off gouts of blood. With one last warbling note, the monster lay still, and continued to bleed out into the earth.

His breathing hard and ragged, Hellboy quickly leapt down from the now dead beast’s head, and re-entered the water.

“ _Roger!”_ he called, panting with exhausting. Using his hands, he desperately forced himself faster into the pond, rushing to the spot where the beasts now limp leg floated. “Fuck, Roger, you better be alright…” He dove under the surface, kicking with his legs and propelling himself closer to the bottom of the pond.

Pinched between the muddy ground and the semi-buoyant claw, Roger lay motionless. He was face down towards the pond bottom, his arms floating limply in front of him. Hellboy truly felt the icy coldness of the water around him as his heart dropped into his stomach, and thrust his right hand forward. Drifting closer, he latched tightly onto Roger’s outstretched hand, and dug his hooves into the slick mud underneath them. His lungs burned for air as he slowly dragged his friend out from under the heavily suspended claw, and began swimming for the surface.

Hellboy broke the surface of the water, his lungs burning as he struggled to fill them with air. He was dragged back underneath by Roger’s weight, unable to bring the other man to the surface. He swam as fast as he could, digging his hooves into the mud and propelling himself with his free arm as he dragged Roger behind him. _C’mon, Roger…_ Hellboy pleaded silently, to whom he wasn’t sure.

What seemed like an eternity later, Hellboy reached the edge of the pond. His clothes were stained red by the pond water, now saturated with the spilt blood of the fish monster. He turned around, and grabbed Roger by the other hand and dragged him completely out of the pond. Bringing him a safe distance away from the murky, brackish water, he turned Roger onto his back and quickly knelt down beside him.

“Roger? Oh man, Roger, can you hear me?” Hellboy said shakily, looking down at the other man. His eyes were closed, his face expressionless. Dark brown blood dribbled from a wound in the side of his head. Groaning, Hellboy put his hands on Roger’s chest and applied pressure. He had never learned what to do in the event of a drowning, but he had seen this in movies before. Despite his efforts, Roger continued to lay motionless.

Hellboy, becoming increasingly frustrated, had to stop himself from pounding his fists into Roger’s chest and screaming. _No, no, no…_ he thought. He couldn’t believe that he had allowed this to happen. He was supposed to be the strong one, the protector, the tank. He had wanted to take Roger away from the BPRD to protect him, but with an increasingly dark feeling he realized he might have been putting Roger in more danger. He stopped his compressions, and morosely looked down at the wet, impassive man before him.

“I’m sorry, Roger... “ he murmured quietly. His tail lay limp beside him. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he looked down at his scratched, pruned hand. All his life, he had just wanted to be the _good_ guy instead of the freakin’ harbinger of the apocalypse. He closed his eyes, and put his head in his hands.

He was startled from his cycle of self-deprecation by a coughing noise in front of him, and whipped his hands away to see Roger coming to.

“ _Roger!”_ Hellboy yelled, relief flooding through him like sunlight through a dark valley. He quickly put his right arm underneath Roger’s back, bringing him up to a sitting position. Roger was disoriented for a brief moment, but afterwards was back to his usual self. He gingerly touched the wound on his head, and smiled up at Hellboy.

“Did we win?” he asked weakly, laughing as Hellboy’s face broke into a wide grin.

“Yeah, man, we won. We turned that asshole into sushi,” he laughed, letting Roger sit up on his own. “Jeez, Rog’, I thought...I thought you had drowned,” he coughed out, his intense sense of relief causing his voice to waver.

Roger frowned in confusion. “What do you mean? Hellboy, I don’t even breathe air.”

Hellboy stiffened. “But you...you were just floating there! You were freakin’ unconscious, Rog’!” he yelled, incredulous.

“Yeah, I hit my head on a rock,” he said matter of factly, touching the sore spot on his head again. “That monster was pretty mean.”

Hellboy laughed out loud again, feeling foolish. His intense relief was not diminished, though. He was just glad his friend was okay.

“Whatever, as long as you’re alright…” said Hellboy, standing up and helping Roger to his feet. They both spent a moment brushing themselves off, and Hellboy mourned the long tear in his black T-shirt. _Bastard…_

“So, now that the fish guy is dead...does that mean the curse is broken?” Roger asked, taking in the startlingly visceral scene before them. The skin of the monster was now incredibly pale, the majority of its blood having leaked into the surrounding environment.

Hellboy was about to answer, but was interrupted by a sudden wind that shook the trees around them. The air became frigid, and as Hellboy breathed, he could see his breath in front of him. He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly cold. Roger, oblivious to the temperature, looked around him curiously as the cacophony of forest sounds returned. Crickets, birds, and woodland creatures could be heard once again in the distance.

_"You have upheld your end of the bargain…”_ a disembodied voice whispered. Hellboy recognized it as the voice of the witch before. “ _And so shall I.”_ Roger apprehensively peered into the trees around them, calling out in surprise as they saw three figures moving towards them out of the mist. Hellboy reflexively reached for his pistol, but remembered that he had used all his ammunition in the previous fight.

“Watch out, Roger…” Hellboy said. “I dunno how much I trust this witch.”

As the beings came closer, Hellboy and Roger could see that they were the three transformed monsters; Tamim, Bart, and their brother Domi. Hellboy felt sweat prickling under his armpits as he saw that they still had their enlarged mouths, complete with razor sharp teeth and spatterings of blood. 

“ _These descendents of King I knew once long ago shall be returned to rightful state…_ ” the witch spoke. The three villagers stood motionless in front of Hellboy and Roger, and they watched with interest and disgust as all of their teeth fell from their lips, and their mouths slowly receded back into their faces. Once the transformation was complete, they collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

“Ah, jeez…” Hellboy sighed, feeling the tension in his shoulder muscles. He did _not_ want to carry these guys back to the church, a brutal two-hour walk. The wind suddenly died, and the clearing was returned to stillness. Roger rushed forward and gingerly touched one of the prone adults.

“They look like they’re okay…” Roger said, turning Domi over onto his back. He grimaced as he saw that the young man’s mouth was devoid of any teeth. Hellboy sighed in exasperation, and swiped his left hand across his forehead.

“Alright, you grab Domi, I’ll take the other two,” he grumbled in defeat. Roger enthusiastically lifted Domi by the armpits, and hefted him over his broad shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Hellboy approached the remaining two villagers, and draped them one after the other on his two shoulders. “Ooh, Roger-- can you grab my coat? See, it’s just there, hangin’...” he hissed, his muscles complaining against the weight of the two adults. Roger obliged, and the two slowly made their way out of the clearing.

 

Miriam was overjoyed when, two-and-a-half hours later, a couple of very tired, and very winded former BPRD agents knocked on the door to her church once more. She quickly ushered them inside, ecstatically praising God in German and profusely thanking Hellboy and Roger. The three villagers were still unconscious, and were placed restfully in the pews.

“Thank you, oh, thank you so much…” Miriam cried, wiping tears from her eyes. “You are angels, you two! You are sent to me from God!” Roger smiled warmly and blushed as deeply as a Homunculus was capable of when she gave him a short, gentle hug. She was about to hug Hellboy as well, but decided against it when she saw the blood caked onto his shirt.

“Don’t mention it, ma’am. ‘S our pleasure,” Hellboy responded groggily, stifling a yawn.

“Yes, we are glad we could help you and your town,” Roger added happily. He was quite proud of what he and his companion had been able to accomplish. Miriam smiled widely and looked at them both with tenderness. She glanced again at Hellboy’s torn clothing.

“Ah, you’re shirt, it is torn! You want new one? My late husband, I still have some shirts of his!” She said excitedly, gesturing to the massive tear in Hellboy’s black cotton shirt. She gently pulled on his left hand, attempting to lead him towards the rear room of the church, but stopped when she saw just how exhausted the formidable half-demon was.

“Sorry, I’m comin’...I’m comin’...” he murmured, stumbling forward. Roger, feeling right as rain, put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“Oh, my poor things, you are exhausted! Komm jetzt, you sleep here for tonight, yes?” She looked up worryingly into Hellboy’s slack face.

“Yes, Hellboy, maybe we should rest for a bit,” Roger added. If he were to be honest with himself, he actually quite liked the church and didn’t want to leave just yet.

“Mm…” the half-demon grunted, following Miriam towards the back of the church. Roger was close behind, careful not to bump into any of the pews carrying the sleeping villagers.

Their first solo mission together a great success, Roger and Hellboy acquiesced to rest for the remainder of the night, after being given new clothes and some medical attention. It took Hellboy a whopping three minutes to fall asleep after being introduced to the incredibly small guest bed located in the eastern wing of the church. He slept soundly, despite the fact that he had to dangle his hooves and calves over the end of the bed. Roger sat himself in a very comfortable loveseat in the corner of the room, looking peaceably out of the open window at the moonlit scenery beyond. He absentmindedly fingered the device embedded in the center of his chest; his artificial energy generator, the mechanism that Abe Sapien had designed in order to keep him alive. The same device also contained the incendiary bomb that could spell his end. Feeling at peace with himself, and hopeful for the future, he drifted off into a state of restfulness while pondering what adventures awaited him in the morning.


	3. The Táltos -- Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hellboy and Roger travel to Hungary, and discover that the town of Vasvár has been struggling with a widespread deadly illness. Teaming up with a local historian and occult-enthusiast, they investigate an urban myth about a child who may have special powers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a story I created based off of the Hungarian mythos of the Táltos and the story of Göncöl. I didn't originally intend for this segment to be in two parts, but I figured I'd go easy on you and not post a 12000 word chapter. The beginning segment is adapted from an excerpt of the comic 1947. A lot of the references and history in this chapter come from the comics, so for those of you who haven't read them, they might seem a little confusing. I could go on a special-interest rant about Hellboy all day though so if you have a question or need clarification or even are curious about what comic to read to find out more about something, shoot me a message and we can hash it out. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

_The sun beat down mercilessly on the roofs of the small, rectangular buildings populating the military base just outside of New Mexico. The shiny, metallic shingles reflected the light upwards, like so many beacons piercing the sky in rejection at the obstinate heat. A cloud of red dust rose as a large utility truck made its way down the small street dividing two lines of buildings, on its way to the hangar. When the truck was clear, a small, laughing boy quickly raced across the road, followed by an equally enthusiastic dog. Holding up his large right hand, the boy shielded his eyes from the daunting sunlight. The year was 1947, and Hellboy was three years old._

_Dropping his hand, Hellboy stooped to pick up the slightly sticky, dust-covered tennis ball that the quivering dog had dropped at his feet._

_“Go fetch, boy!” Hellboy called out, laughing as he lobbed the tennis ball. The dog quickly sped after it, barking excitedly. Hellboy was about to chase after him when he saw the door to building 305 open across the street. Standing in the doorway was Professor Trevor Bruttenholm, his own adoptive father. Glancing briefly in the direction of his friend and seeing that he was still quite occupied with his ball, Hellboy jogged across the dusty road towards the spry, slightly sweaty man. Bruttenholm was about to return to the blissfully air-conditioned interior of his office, when he noticed the small, red child approaching the front step. Smiling, he crouched down to greet him._

_“Why, hello there, my boy. Having fun, are you?” he asked, grinning as he pinched and jiggled one of the boy’s horns. Hellboy squealed happily, scrabbling at his father’s hand, careful not to squeeze too tightly with his right. He had learned of his own strength the hard way._

_“Professor, come play catch with me!” said Hellboy, playfully nudging the pen lodged behind the man’s ear. Bruttenholm quickly brought a hand up to catch it._

_The man sighed. “You know I can’t, my son. I’m far too busy. You know my special friend is visiting me today, yes? You remember your great uncle, Ota?” Bruttenholm smiled, his fingers still caressing the boy’s horn. He stroked the smooth, red keratin with his pinky lovingly. Anyone would be able to tell immediately that this man cared deeply for the half-demon the BPRD had made a ward of three years ago._

_Hellboy’s face fell, and he moved his hands behind his back. He scuffed one of his hooves against the hot cement step underneath them, his demeanor quickly becoming anxious. “Yeah, I ‘member him.”_

_Bruttenholm’s brow furrowed in concern. “What’s the matter? Did something happen?” He stooped lower in order to more clearly see the boy’s face._

_Hellboy twisted uncomfortably. He had never been able to hide anything from the Professor, especially when met with that inquisitive stare._

_“I don’t think uncle Ota likes me...” he said softly. He picked nervously at the rough, jagged shape of his right hand. If he was being truthful with himself, this particular issue had been bothering him since the last time he had seen his great uncle, several months ago. He wasn’t able to meet his father’s eyes, and struggled to hold back tears._

_“Oh, my son…” the Professor said softly. He moved his hand to the child’s cheek, and their eyes met. Hellboy’s lip was quivering dangerously. Sighing, Bruttenholm stood up and, reaching downwards, gripped the small child under the armpits. With some effort, he lifted the child up and cradled him in his grasp. The added body heat of the small being was almost unbearable for the fully-dressed man, but he was willing to put it out of his mind considering the circumstances. “Now, what in the world would make you think that?”_

_Gripping the back of his father’s suit with his right hand, Hellboy nervously scratched at his head with his other. Bruttenholm could feel the boy’s thick, red tail absently flicking against his kneecap. “He was prayin’ on me,” he said, his brow wrinkling as he pouted. “He did the thing, y’know? Where you touch your shoulders n’ stuff?” He demonstrated, making the sign of the father, son, and holy spirit._

_Bruttenholm cursed silently, his cheeks growing hot with anger. He had said to Ota specifically not to let his own private feelings about Hellboy evident to the child. Ota had made it no secret that he thought the boy was a bad omen, and was disappointed with the BPRD in that they allowed the creature to live on as a regular human being. He encouraged his nephew to do away with the half-demon, saying it would bring nothing but pain and suffering to allow the boy to continue living. Trevor had consistently brushed off his uncle’s angry ranting, determined that someday Ota would see otherwise._

_“Now, son, uncle Ota is…” he struggled to find the right word. “Old-fashioned.” He smiled sadly at his son, who was listening to him intently. “You remember what I told you, correct? About how you came to us?” He adjusted his arms around the gangly three-year-old._

_Hellboy was silent while he remembered. “L’see...you told me those Nazis made a big hole in th’ world, for a dragon to come through…” he began, chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully. “But I came through instead, and...and then y’found me!” He grinned brightly. He had repeatedly asked the Professor for more information about that day in England, but Bruttenholm had always been just a little bit cagey with the specifics of what had occured._

_“Yes! Great job,” he said, swelling with pride. The small child glowed with the praise. “You see, the thing about uncle Ota, and people like him…” he paused. He was worried he would end up making things worse. “They’re worried you’re going to be bad. When you grow up, I mean,” he said softly. His heart lurched as he saw the expression on Hellboy’s face._ Why am I so bad at this? _he thought._

_“Why...why do they think that?” he asked. His voice quavered. “Why d’ they think I’m gonna be bad?” His grip on Bruttenholm’s suit tightened, and his eyes bore deeply into the Professor’s, mirroring his own anxiety._

_“I-It’s not anything about who you are, per say, or...or what you’ve done, it’s just...it’s an_ assumption _. Do you know what that means?” he stammered, hoping he would still be able to quell the storm within his son, without churning it into an all-out chaos. Hellboy gritted his teeth, and shook his head ‘no’ slowly. “Well, an “assumption” is when we make...a guess about something. Right?” Hellboy stared at him, blinking rapidly. He continued. “A guess based on what we’ve heard, or...what we feel, or something like that. But the thing about an “assumption” is...often times they are_ wrong _. Do you understand?”_

_Hellboy sniffed, and scratched at his horn while nodding morosely._

_“So the way that uncle Ota, and all these people feel about you...it’s an assumption. They’re making a guess about you,” he continued purposefully. He tenderly rubbed at the boy’s back with his thumb, unable to move his hands much more than that. Hellboy peered unwaveringly into the man’s eyes, absorbing his every word like a plant would water. He would never have afforded anyone else the rapture with which he listened to his father. “And let me tell you, my boy; that assumption is_ dead _wrong.”_

_Hellboy blinked, and rubbed at his damp eyes. “Y’mean...I’m not gonna be bad?” he whimpered. Maintaining eye contact, Trevor smiled lovingly._

_“I don’t think so, my son,” he responded. Hellboy smiled as well, perking up almost instantly._

_“I wanna be_ good _, Professor!” he said loudly, slapping his father on the back with his right hand. The action drove the wind out of Bruttenholm, but he righted himself quickly. He laughed jovially, taking great pleasure in the look of excitement and determination in his son’s eyes. He bent to place Hellboy back on the ground, groaning at his stiff joints._

_“I know you will be,” he said, grinning. He was struggling to remain composed, himself. He could feel the sting behind his eyes that signalled the onset of tears. Like any father, be it adoptive or not, he constantly worried about the small child he had become responsible for. It pained him greatly whenever he saw the conflict in his son’s small, amber eyes; the weight of his destiny, unbeknownst to all of them. Luckily, Hellboy was almost consistently in a great mood. He quickly wiped the sleeve of his wilting suit jacket against his eyes. Hellboy turned to face him, looking upwards at the tall man._

_“I’m gonna show uncle Ota, and all those others!” Hellboy said loudly, clenching his fists. “I’m gonna show ‘em how good I’ll be!” He raced down the step and stomped back onto the dusty red street, a cloud forming around his ankles. “Professor, you’re gonna be proud o’ me! Cuz I’m gonna be so good! I promise!”_

 

Hellboy sharply inhaled as he awoke.

For the first moment, he couldn’t remember where he had fallen asleep, and stared in confusion at the unfamiliar cracked ceiling above him. He blinked sleepily, and was surprised to find his temples were damp. He brought his left hand up and wiped at his eyes, realizing he had cried while he slept. Dropping his hand, he grunted as he remembered the previous night, and the church. He sighed, and closed his eyes. It had been a long time since he had had a dream about his the Professor.

“Hellboy?” A voice emanated from the morning twilight. Hellboy started, and quickly moved to prop himself up with his elbows. He stared bleary-eyed into the room, and found he was faced with a man’s chest. Looking up, he saw Roger’s pinched, worried expression peering down at him. The Homunculus blinked, his luminescent eyes wide and inquisitive. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Jeez, Roger...how long you been standing there for?” Hellboy grumbled, moving to sit up on the small, now concave bed.

“I don’t know. It was still dark out when I started,” he responded, scratching at his stone belly. “You were making noises while you slept.”

Hellboy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t used to revealing his own thoughts and emotions, and was frustrated that Roger had been able to see such an intimate display of them, despite it being unintentional. “It’s nothin’, Rog’. I’m fine.” He moved to stand up. He felt refreshed and rested, but could still feel the rotting peach pit of mourning that had been unearthed within him. He missed the Professor terribly.

Hellboy moved to a small chair resting near to the bed, and lifted up a pristine, black t-shirt that had been given to him by Miriam on behalf of her late husband. He looked down, and inspected the numerous holes and rents in his own. Begrudgingly, he peeled off the once-prized shirt and exchanged it for the new one. With a tinge of satisfaction, he recognized the _Guns N’ Roses_ logo adorning the new shirt. _Must have been a cool guy..._ he thought with amusement.

Roger recognized the long coat that had been set aside for himself, and moved to grab it. “Were you having a dream?” Roger asked tentatively. Despite his lack of social nuance, he was able to recognize that this was a sensitive issue to his friend. Hellboy looked up at the ceiling, slightly exasperated.

“Uh...yeah. Yeah, I was dreaming. Of when I was a kid,” he answered shortly. He could hear Liz Sherman’s voice echoing in his head. _“You have to open up to people, you know…”_ she had said. _“People like you. They want to know about you.”_ God, he missed her. “Also, how do you even _know_ what a “dream” is?” he asked.

“Abe told me,” he responded succinctly. “I’ve never had one, but they sound fun.” Roger shrugged on the navy blue coat, and was pleased to see it was somewhat similar to Hellboy’s own tan one. It even had large pockets and a drawstring. Smiling brightly, he plunged his hands into the front pockets, and imagined all the cool rocks and bottle caps he could put in them.

“That’s definitely one way to put it,” Hellboy responded. He quickly gave himself a once-over, checking his horns to see that they were still neat, and scratching under his chin at his stubble. He could use a shave, but he wasn’t too unkempt just yet. “C’mon, I gotta go take a whiz.”

Hellboy and Roger exited the room together and, after stopping by the brutally small washroom (Hellboy could barely close the door behind himself), they made their way back into the main chamber of the church. They found that Miriam was already awake, and she smiled and waved to them. She did not speak, for she was gently trying to push a mug of coffee into the hand of who must have been Domi. He was awake and upright, but stared unseeingly into the wood grain of the pew, and swayed as if he were not aware of his surroundings. Spots of blood still stained the shirt he was wearing.

Roger leaned towards Hellboy slightly. “Do you think he’s gonna be alright?” he asked softly, watching the man. He could also see the remaining two rescued adults, Bart and Tamim. They were sitting upright in a similar fashion, staring vapidly ahead of them.

“They are shocked,” Miriam said softly, looking at them once again. She beckoned for them to come closer, and they sat in the pew in front of her. Hellboy groaned audibly as she handed him a steaming mug of coffee, quickly taking a noisy slurp.

“When did they wake up?” Hellboy asked once he had downed half his cup. Roger peered over his shoulder at the dark, swirling liquid and, after watching Hellboy treat the drink with such enthusiasm, wished he were able to drink liquids as well.

Miriam smiled sadly. “Just shortly ago. My Domi was the first.” She took in a long breath, and exhaled. “He was himself for first few minutes, but then...he remember.” Her eyes grew damp. She turned back towards the three vacant adults. “They all remember.”

Roger picked at a splintered section of the pew he sat on. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said softly. He looked at her, his expression contritious. “We brought them back for you, but...they’re different now.”

Miriam turned back towards them, and placed her wrinkled, dainty hand on Roger’s stone forearm as tears formed on her cheeks. “No, my child of God…” she choked. “They are here. They are just scared.” Roger, taken aback by the woman’s touch, hesitated for a moment, before gently laying his own hand overtop of hers. They smiled at each other. Hellboy watched silently, peering over the rim of his mug. Taking another sip, he was pleased to see that Roger was coming out of his shell. _He’s learning…_ he thought to himself. _He really is a friendly guy._

They spoke for a little bit longer, and then it was time for the two former BPRD agents to continue on their way. Miriam and the two men moved past the front double doors of the fading church, and stood together on the front step. The sun was just rising on the Austrian landscape, casting a warm honey glow on the peeling white exterior of the chapel. Birdsong could be heard from the adjacent copse of trees. The canopy swayed in the gentle breeze, almost as if it were expunging the previously all-encompassing night. Hellboy self-consciously stared at the very noticeable scratch he had left in the front door the previous day, hoping Miriam wouldn’t notice. Roger smiled pleasantly as a pochard wandered in the grass nearby, coming from the nearby pond. He had to restrain himself from wandering into the grass to meet it.

Miriam grasped Hellboy firmly by the right hand, holding the cumbersome limb with both of hers and a bit of effort. “Thank you so much, my child...God bless you both, you have done wonderful thing for me and for this town,” she warbled with elation, giving the half-demon the best handshake she could manage, given the circumstances.

Hellboy smiled down at her. “No sweat, ma’am. It was our pleasure,” he said, looking to Roger and clapping him on the shoulder with his left hand. Roger smiled back at the other man, and Miriam turned to shake his hand as well.

Shortly after, they made their way back to the worn road they had previously used to travel through the countryside. Pleased to be travelling once more, they pointed themselves south and began to walk. Roger was able to keep up for the most part, but was likewise eager to take advantage of his newly acquired pockets and made frequent stops to inspect something on the side of the road. Hellboy walked along pleasantly, whistling around the cigarette pinched between his lips, and enjoyed the beautiful, verdant scenery laying before them.

After a couple hours, and long after Hellboy had run out of cigarettes, a large truck began to catch up to them on the road. Noticing the noisy machine and it’s incumbent dust cloud, Hellboy quickly called to Roger and they moved to the side to allow the truck to pass. Standing side by side in the grass, Hellboy apprehensively held onto the back of Roger’s new coat as the Homunculus stared with wonder at the mediocre vehicle.

Instead of passing them, the truck began to slow. Stopping directly parallel to the two men, the driver side window rolled down and a small, moustachioed face peered at them from inside the cab.

“Brauchen sie einen aufzug?” the man asked, gesturing to the large canopied back of the truck. He smiled at them, albeit a little nervously. Hellboy looked over at Roger, and Roger stared back in confusion.

“Uh...sure,” Hellboy responded, giving his best attempt at a friendly smile. Still holding onto Roger’s coat, he led the hesitant man around the vehicle and towards the back of the truck. Letting go, he reached up to draw away the flap obscuring the interior, and jumped backwards in alarm. “ _Jesus!”_

A small, white lamb had poked its head out from under the flap just as Hellboy had lifted it. It bleated loudly at the cursing man, sniffing at the cool air outside the flap. Roger gasped audibly as he saw the pure white lamb, reflexively reaching towards it. “Hellboy...what is this?” he asked with wonder. The lamb nudged his outstretched fingers with its nose.

“It’s a freakin’ pain in the ass, is what it is…” he grumbled, embarrassed. He hoped the driver hadn’t been watching through his mirrors.

“Whoa…” Roger breathed, eagerly climbing into the back of the truck. “Hellboy! There are more pain in the ass in here!” he called behind him.

Snorting as he tried to contain his laughter, Hellboy followed behind the other and found that there were indeed several sheep inside the back of the truck. They watched their guests with interest, and bleated noisily. Soon after the men had sat down on the dusty, wooden truck bed, the vehicle began to move once more down the bumpy road. Roger sat at the back of the truck, and laughed giddily as sheep nuzzled his cheeks and climbed over top of him. Hellboy smiled as he watched Roger gingerly pet the lamb, almost as if he were scared he would shatter it.

“Alright, lessee where this takes us…” Hellboy said to no one in particular, resting the back of his head against the bouncing wall of the truck. He winced as they went over a particularly large bump. Roger continued to make friends with the sheep.

“Hellboy...I... _love_ them...” Roger looked up at him, meeting his eyes with a serious expression. “Can I please have one?”

“ _Jeez_ , Rog’, no you can’t _have_ one. They belong to this guy,” Hellboy responded, gesturing towards the front of the car. Roger deflated visibly.

“Oh…” he said quietly. He resumed petting the lamb, his previous elation tainted with the knowledge that he would soon have to say goodbye to his new friends. “...Okay.”

Hellboy groaned and scratched at one of his horns. “C’mon, Rog’, we’re gonna be here for a while, so…” he looked imploringly at the other man. “Some nice things just don’t last forever, y’know?” Hellboy looked down at his hooves, and saw that they were covered in brown dust and grass from the road. “You just gotta enjoy things while they’re good, that’s all.”

Roger was silent, but nodded thoughtfully. He pet the lamb with slightly more enthusiasm, his previous happiness somewhat restored. “I will enjoy this. While it lasts,” he said.

Hellboy smiled with satisfaction. Laughing, he said, “I was yankin’ yer chain back there, by the way. They’re called “sheep”, these things.” He gestured at the animals.

Roger grinned broadly. “Sheep!” he called out loudly, then guffawed. “You got me.”

They rode like that for a little over three hours. The truck made frequent stops, and the sound of chattering voices could be heard outside while Hellboy and Roger tried to remain inconspicuous. After the fourth or fifth stop, there was a loud rapping on the side of the truck, and the ruddy, slightly sweaty face of the driver appeared under the flap.

“Sie können jetzt aussteigen,” the man said, smiling. He gestured to the outside of the truck. With a groan, Hellboy slowly brought himself upright, his stiff muscles aching from the long ride in the bumpy truck. He growled as he accidentally banged one of his horns against the roof of the vehicle, forgetting to crouch slightly. Roger, looking as though the Earth might crack open right then and there, gingerly and regretfully evicted the small, now sleeping lamb from his lap, placing it on the truck bed next to its resting mother.

Exiting the truck, Hellboy gave a short wave to the man and turned to Roger as the truck began to drive onto the lot of a nearby farm. Roger looked around excitedly, taking in the new scenery. “I wonder what part of Austria we’re in now?” he asked.

“Hmm…” Hellboy grumbled. They were just on the outskirts of a small town, and perched next to the road leading towards the main street, was a worn, wooden sign reading “VASVÁR, MAGYARORSZÁG.” Hellboy looked towards the town. “Not Austria anymore, Roger,” he intoned, scratching as his goatee. “Hungary.”

Roger nodded thoughtfully. “You did eat over five hours ago, so that makes sense,” he said.

“No, Rog’, not _hungry_ ,” he admonished. “Hungary. It’s a country right next to Austria. We must have crossed over the border in that truck.” He put his left hand in his pocket, his right too big to fit into the other. “Good thing, too. Neither of us have passports.”

Roger put his hands into his pockets too. “You’ll have to explain to me later what that is,” he said.

“Will do, buddy,” Hellboy responded. They began down the trail towards the austere town of Vasvár, their backs warmed by the mid-afternoon sunshine. The path gradually widened, and the rocky dirt was replaced by clean, mismatched cobblestones that flowed together like schooling salmon. Hellboy’s hooves clicked against the warm stone as they passed underneath the shadow of the tall spire of a church, pointed at the top with a cross. Roger kept his gaze firmly directed upwards, gazing excitedly at the chic exteriors of the nearby homes. He stumbled while he walked, an uneven stone catching him on the toe. He found this town to be quite pleasant; the outer walls of the buildings were often painted in a lighter color, such as white or pink, and the roofs were all a beautiful, red clay. He smiled widely as he saw a flock of common sparrows emerge from underneath a group of shingles on a nearby home.

“I like this place, Hellboy,” he remarked quietly, watching as the sparrows dropped nimbly from the eavestrough and took to flight.

“You like every place,” the red man responded, leisurely taking in the adorable scenery around them.

“That’s true, I do like every place,” said Roger. He jogged ahead slightly in order to get a good luck at the bark on a nearby tree. Hellboy laughed to himself and shook his head. They continued strolling down the main avenue of the Hungarian town, occasionally making remarks about this and that. Despite this, Hellboy had an eerie feeling about their surroundings (and right on time, too.)

“There’s nobody here, Rog’...” he said slowly, narrowing his glowing eyes as he peered down a barren side street. Roger, who was walking ahead, slowed down to join him.

“You’re right. I have not seen a single person here,” he added, running his hand over his bald head. The action made a sound like two boulders scraping across each other. Hellboy rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“God, do central Europeans have somethin’ against leaving their damn houses?” he growled, wishing he had a cigar, or even a cigarette. He had been smoking since he was four years old and he was pretty sure he had cigar ash in his bloodstream at this point. Roger shrugged noncommittally.

They stopped walking in the middle of a spacious plaza, lined by decoratively sculpted benches and shrubbery. In the centre of the cobble plaza was an impressive fountain, reaching five-and-a-half meters in height and depicting several cherubim circling a pair of outstretched palms. Water stemmed from spouts protruding from underneath the cherubim, falling across multiple tiers before splashing into the tiled basin below. As opulent as the fountain was, the sight was slightly disappointing; the walls of the basin were caked with muddy, green algae, and the water flow was stunted due to blockages caused by leaves and sticks stuck to the intake filters. The statuesque sculptures at the top of the fountain were covered in a thick film of bird feces, and Hellboy waved his right hand in front of his face, grimacing as he caught the pond-like stench emanating from the water.

“It’s really dirty,” Roger said nonchalantly as he immediately began to climb into the basin of the fountain. “Filthy, actually.” He inspected the intricately carved faces of the cherubim. He scratched a chunk of guano off of the eye of one of the infants. Its gaze seemed far away and dispassionate. Roger felt bad for it.

“Looks like no one’s cleaned this thing in...forever,” Hellboy remarked, glancing around the unpopulated plaza. “Don’t they got janitors around here? Y’know...fountain-scrubbers?” Roger climbed out of the fountain, the bottom of his coat discolored and dripping.

“I think I would enjoy doing that,” said Roger, shaking excess water off of his foot. “I would love to see it all clean and nice.”

“Yeah, I bet you would, buddy,” Hellboy snorted, remembering how the Homunculus’s room looked back at the BPRD. Everything had been neatly organized into its place, and there wasn’t a single speck, wrapper, mote, or carapace on the carpet. The man kept his living space perfectly immaculate, in stark contrast to his own room, which was lined with crooked rock posters and energy drink cans. “C’mon, let’s move on. This place gives me the creeps…”

The continued together farther down the street, passing out of the plaza and back onto the main road. The buildings became larger and more interspersed, with trees and berry bushes filling the gaps between the walls. There was one building that, upon closer inspection, stood out among the rest. This building was much taller, and had an intricate, layered step resting before the front door. A brass knocker hung underneath a small window embedded into the wood, the ring resting against a small divot that had been stamped into the material. Just outside the door, resting on the metal fence dividing the path from the front yard of the building, was a steel sign that read “Látogatói információk.”

“That last word looks like “information”, Hellboy,” Roger said, pointing. “I wonder if this is some sort of administrative building?”

“Hell, I don’t care, as long as there’s people inside…” Hellboy growled back, looking upwards at a slightly illuminated window on the second floor. “Let’s go say hi.”

They approached the front door of the building and Hellboy, once again foregoing the knocking custom, pushed through the door and walked into the lobby. Roger followed, and closed the door behind them. The lobby of the building was small, but densely packed with resources and materials. The walls adjacent to the wooden double doors were lined with metal rackings, containing brochures, pamphlets, leaflets, and other disposable reading material. A table resting in the corner contained an interactive map of Vasvár, intended for children to play with. Across from the doors stood a long, wooden counter that ran the entire width of the room. The countertop made up three service stations, each containing a computer, a stack of maps and pens, and a silver bell. Not a single person was present within the lobby, except for Hellboy and Roger.

“Gimme a break…” Hellboy hissed, throwing his head back in annoyance. He wondered when the next sheep herder was leaving town, hopefully for somewhere with _people_.

“There’s no one in here either…” Roger said softly as he plucked a brochure from the wall. “Where did everyone go?”

“ _They are in their homes,_ ” a heavily-accented voice said from the back of the room. Roger jumped and dropped his brochure. Whipping around, he saw Hellboy quickly drawing his gun, and searching the room apprehensively. There was still no one there.

“Alright, pal, come on out right now, or…” Hellboy said loudly, taking a step towards the long countertop. His fingers flexed on the handle of his weapon, and he held his right hand up menacingly.

“ _There is no need for violence,_ ” the voice said again. Footsteps could be heard from around the corner, and a man emerged to stand on the other side of the desk from Roger and Hellboy. Roger took a reflexive step towards the other non-human, and Hellboy’s aim wavered slightly with surprise.

The man who had come to greet them was clothed from head to food in a biohazardous materials safety suit. He waved a single rubber-gloved hand slowly, the thick material covering his arm squeaking loudly with the motion. His chest blinked slightly with small screen relays and diagnostic tools, and his thick rubber pants were held on by polyester suspenders. On his head, he wore a large, cylindrical helmet with a front visor allowing others to see his face. Through the visor, Hellboy and Roger stared incredulously at the man, his bespectacled and smiling face looking back at them.

“What the heck, man…” said Hellboy, holstering his pistol. Roger narrowed his eyes as he peered at the man, his mouth slightly open in thought. “I mean, I know it’s always important to use protection, but... _should we be worried about somethin’_?” The two walked closer to the desk.

They heard a laughing sound emanating from the man, but the cumbersome nature of his suit prevented his body from displaying his joviality. “No, my friends, no need to worry. Not for _you two_ , of course. This _öltöny_ is for my own protection.” The man closed the distance to the counter, and placed his thickly gloved hands onto the wood countertop. He seemed perfectly at home. Roger, having also approached the counter, touched the material gingerly.

“Don’t you get hot in there, sir?” he asked, captivated by the shiny texture of the glove.

“My suit has an internal air conditioner,” he replied, his voice chipper.

“Wait a minute, back up…” said Hellboy, moving to stand next to Roger. “You said _us two_. What do you mean by that?” He narrowed his eyes, and crossed his arms. Intimidation came naturally to him.

The man was unphased. “Well, I don’t know about your companion, but I know all about you, Mr. Hellboy! You see, I went to University in Connecticut, and saw you in the papers all the time!” He smiled widely, staring at the tall half-demon with what was undeniably admiration. “I doubt that you would need the same safeguards that I would, what with you not being _completely_ human. I doubt that your friend qualifies as a human as well.”

Roger looked down dejectedly. Hellboy frowned, disapproving of the slight against Roger, and uncrossed his arms in order to pat the Homunculus on the back with his left hand. “This is Roger, my friend. We’re travel buddies,” he said, looking to his companion and smiling. Roger looked up, and smiled too.

“Ah, that is so nice. Vasvár is so beautiful this time of year, have you looked at any of our scenic hiking trails?” the man chirped, picking up one of the maps. Hellboy waved his hand in dismissal.

“Cut it out with that stuff,” he said shortly. “Who are you?” He pinned the man with a pointed stare.

The suited host seemed not to notice. “My name is Andras Tóth, and I work here at our Visitor Information Centre,” he explained, straightening as much as he could. “I come quite in handy, since I know Hungarian, English, and French! I have also lived in Hungary all my life, save for my one trip to America to study.” His proud demeanor was incredibly apparent, despite the wall of rubber. Roger smiled, pleased by Andras’s open, inviting demeanor. He had obviously been a perfect choice for his current job.

“Well, nice to meetcha, Andras,” Hellboy hissed, slightly annoyed at the man’s uppity attitude. “Now, why don’t you tell us what the deal is with the Halloween costume.”

Andras’s attitude dampened slightly, and he cleared his throat. “Well, you see...Vasvár actually hasn’t been doing so well lately. Our town has been hit by some sort of epidemic, if you will. The worst case of the flu we have ever seen.” He paused to organize the pens on his desk just a bit. “82% of our local population has fallen ill to this sickness...and 17% have already perished due to the symptoms.” His hands shook, and a pen was placed askance. He cursed softly in Hungarian.

“Sheesh, that...that sucks, man,” Hellboy said softly. He wasn’t really sure what to do in these sorts of situations. He didn’t think he was good at making people feel better. “So, lemme guess...you’ve managed to avoid this thing so far with the suit?” He gestured at Andras’s outfit.

“Yes. Right from the beginning, more and more people fell ill at an advanced rate, so many of us quickly started to isolate ourselves within our homes. I, for one, hate being cooped up and so elected to change my work uniform.” He smiled widely, but grimaced as his spectacles slid down his nose. “Oh, _az istenit_.” He groped at the front of his visor with his gloves until he was able to compress the plastic, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

Hellboy snorted. “You got kind of a potty mouth there, don’tcha Andy?” Andras chuckled and nodded sheepishly.

“So that’s why the city is so empty? Everyone is at home?” Roger asked, his hands hanging off of the edge of the desk.

“Yes. They are either shielding themselves, or…” Andras looked down. “Or they are gone.”

Roger looked at the man sadly. Hellboy saw this, and felt impressed with Roger’s capacity for empathy. Despite literally having a heart made of stone, the man had made more of an attempt to connect with people than the half-demon ever had. In a way, it made him want to do better. Just a bit.

“Hey, man...if there’s anything we can do…” Hellboy said softly, tapping his hoof against the bottom of the desk. “Y’know, ‘s only the two of us, but…” He looked up at Andras. Andras appeared thoughtful for a moment, and fiddled with one of the dials on the front of his suit.

“Well...if I can be honest with you for a moment…” he said, surreptitiously taking a glance behind him. “I...like to dabble a little bit in the occult.”  
Hellboy’s eyes narrowed. “ _What do you mean?_ ” he asked, his voice low.

Quickly catching himself, Andras added, “Well, I mean I like to _research_ the occult. Ever since I was a boy, growing up in Celldömölk, I have liked to read about weird and creepy things, you know, like urban legends. One that I’ve been reading about a lot recently, is the legend of Göncöl, and the táltos.”

Hellboy nodded slowly, his eyes far away and searching. “I remember that word... _táltos_ … “ he said, snapping his fingers as if it would help him remember. “It must’a been...the Professor must have told me, as a boy. A bedtime story.”

Andras clapped his hands excitedly, producing a thick, slapping sound. “ _Yes!_ You are familiar with this tale then!” Through the visor, his face practically illuminated the whole room. Roger smiled broadly, enthralled by the man’s enthusiasm.

“Well, I mean...that was, what, sixty years ago?” he mumbled, absentmindedly tapping the fingers of his right hand against the surface of the counter. Andras’s pens slid into horrible disarray from the vibration.

Roger looked back and forth between Hellboy and Andras. “I don’t know this one, please tell me,” he said, turning back to Andras.

Hellboy cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “Yeah, why don’t you tell the story, so, uh, Roger here knows.” He coughed.

“Yes, I would love to tell this tale!” he said. He shimmied around the side of the desk, and walked through a small hinged door so that he was standing in the main part of the lobby. Joining Roger and Hellboy, he pulled a smart phone out of the back pocket of his suit, and with great effort, was able to retrieve a drawn picture of an old man with a cane, juxtaposed to an image of the Big Dipper constellation.

“So this man is Göncöl. He is a very well-known _táltos_ in Hungarian mythology, which, by an American standard, would make him a type of shaman or mystic. So Göncöl had all of these really special powers, like he could make storms happen, he could heal people, he could talk to animals, all sorts of stuff. Now Göncöl wasn’t the only táltos to exist in Hungarian mythology, but he was definitely the most famous because at the end of his life, some say that he never really _died_ , but that instead, he joined the stars as the Big Dipper.” Andras gestured to the photo of the constellation. Hellboy nodded his head thoughtfully, remembering how the Professor had told him about his own research into the táltos mythology. Roger brightened, and looked closely at the picture of the stars.

“I wish I could turn into stars someday,” he said. “You could look down at the Earth and see all your friends.”

Andras smiled. “Yes, it is a very nice tale. Now, the reason I have been so interested in this particular story…” He leaned closer to Hellboy and Roger. His helmet squished slightly against Roger’s head. “ _I think that there is another táltos amongst us!_ ”

Roger’s mouth fell open with surprise. “Really?” he asked, incredulous.

Hellboy narrowed his eyes. “You think there’s a táltos _here? In 2001?”_ he sneered.

Andras nodded excitedly. “Yes! It’s been a very long time since a táltos was documented, but I think that we have another!”

Hellboy’s eyebrows raised, and he crossed his arms again. “So lemme get this straight...you think this new táltos can set this place right?” he said. “Since they have healing powers?”

Andras clapped his hands again and pointed to Hellboy with enthusiasm. “ _Yes!_ That is exactly it! We can find this táltos, and they can help us!” His wide smile was visible through the plastic visor.

Roger frowned. “Mr. Andras...do you have any doctors in town? Are these people receiving medical care?” He tried to keep the sound of his doubt out of his voice.

Andras nodded sadly. “Yes, we have our own hospital, but this problem has gotten so bad that they’re unable to help on the scale that they need to. Now, if we had a táltos though…” He smiled again, and placed his hands on Hellboy and Roger’s shoulders. Hellboy smirked, and winked at Roger. Roger tilted his head and blinked back at Hellboy.

“Alright, Andy...now what makes you think you got _another_ táltos in town?” he said dryly, placing his hands on his hips. Andras clasped his hands together.

“I am very glad you asked me that! So. I was searching through the town records and old newspapers, and I found a story from nine years ago about a mother and her baby who were forced to live in the forest outside of town. I suspect that that infant is a táltos,” he explained.

Roger’s mouth was agape with surprise. “They forced a new mother to live in the _woods?_ ”

Andras nodded solemnly. “Yes, on account of the strange nature of the child. When it was born, it was found to have a _full set of teeth_ . Not only that, but _six fingers on each hand!_ Hungarian mythos states that that is a clear indication that a child will grow to become a táltos!”

Hellboy scoffed and shook his head. “People are scared of what they don’t understand…” he grumbled. “They shouldn’t have been forced to leave.”

Andras nodded solemnly. “Yes, I agree. I do not think even the mother knew the truth about her child. Not many people these days know much about the táltos.”

Hellboy sighed, exasperated. He could feel his temple pulsating with the onset of a headache, and there was a terrible pinch in his back from the meager state of the mattress he had slept on. He wished he had gotten a better sleep last night. Usually, on nights where he dreamed about the Professor, the next day proved to be emotionally stressful. Trevor had been taken from him so suddenly, and in a way that he himself could have prevented. His father, after having disappeared for two years on a polar expedition and suddenly reappearing back at the BPRD, had become a changed man and was no longer the person that Hellboy had known all his life. Hellboy had just been visiting with him in his office, when he was attacked by a monstrous frog creature, and killed swiftly. Hellboy had not allowed himself much time to grieve the loss of the Professor, but if he were honest with himself, he thought about him every day. He wished he had made an effort to spend more time with him.

“Hellboy?” Roger said softly. Hellboy looked up sharply, and met the other’s eyes. Roger was looking at him with concern.

Hellboy cleared his throat. “So, Andras...you know where this kid is now?” he asked, looking towards the suited man.

He nodded rapidly. “Yes! According to the 1998 city census and local tax records, I have a clear idea of where they are located. Let’s all go together, no?” he said happily, practically jumping. “I’m so excited! I finally get to meet a táltos!”

Hellboy rolled his eyes. “You _do_ know, by your own research, this táltos kid is gonna be, _what_ , nine years old?” They began moving out of the lobby, Roger taking up the rear. “How is a little kid gonna solve all of _this?_ ” He gestured with his right hand at the empty streets.

Andras waved his finger in the air, like a maestro with his baton. “You see, táltos are born with _natural wisdom!_ Even if this child is only nine, they will still understand the world like an adult!”

Roger frowned. “That’s kind of sad. It’s like that kid never got to be a _kid_.” They moved down the front steps and stood together on the cobbled path laying before the visitor’s centre. “I never had one, so I wouldn’t know, but isn’t childhood important for child development?” Hellboy smiled. Roger sounded so much like Kate, it was almost adorable. And a little bit sad.

Andras nodded as they continued to walk. “That’s true, I guess. I wonder how that little baby is doing now…” he said wistfully.

 

They began walking together down the street, Andras leading and Hellboy and Roger following. Andras informed them that nine years ago, an area had been designated for the mother and child by the municipal authority, and that their home was located an hour’s walk outside of town. As they walked through the cobble streets and in-between the chic, white and red buildings, they were still unable to find even a single other person. Andras chattered excitedly, wildly gesticulating with his hands.

“So is it true that you file down your horns? I mean, obviously they look like they’ve been filed, but how fast do they grow? What is the BPRD headquarters like? You are part of the FBI of America, so I bet it’s a pretty big operation you have! I read Ms. Corrigan’s thesis paper on transdermal projection and paraphysical morphology, she has such a brilliant mind! Oh, I’m so happy I get to spend the day with Hellboy! Oh-- and you too, Roger! Tell me--” he continued to talk excitedly, and Hellboy tried to dissociate as quickly as possible in order to escape the massive line of invasive questions. He walked mechanically, as if he were lost in thought. Roger smiled, and walked on pleasantly.

“Hellboy and I are actually no longer-,” Roger began, but was cut off by Hellboy aggressively putting a finger to his own lips. Roger stalled, and then nodded. Andras continued, not even paying attention to the men behind him. Roger and Hellboy put a couple steps worth of distance between themselves and the suited man.

“Jeez...does that guy have an off switch?” Hellboy grumbled, gritting his teeth. He huffed and looked upwards, a light breeze ruffling the collar of his coat.

Roger frowned and looked over at his friend. “Hellboy...are you alright?”

Hellboy glanced at him. From his gaze, Roger could tell he was tired. Morose. Troubled. “Yeah, buddy...I’m alright.” He smiled, but was not convincing.

Roger persisted. “You’ve been thinking about your father,” he said quietly. He didn’t want Andras to overhear them, although he appeared to be lost in his own thinkspace.

Hellboy sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his left hand. _Guy’s like a dog with a bone…_ he thought. _Can’t blame him...he’s a natural sweetheart._ Scratching noisily at his horn with his right hand, he spoke. “Yeah, Rog’. I miss him.” He swallowed thickly. They walked in silence for a few more moments.

“Tell me about him,” asked Roger. He looked over to Hellboy expectantly. “He passed away in 1994, right? That was two years before we met.” He was, of course, referring to the year he had been revived for the first time, underneath Czege Castle in Romania.

Hellboy didn’t speak for several moments. They moved forward, but his eyes were focused doward, counting the cobbles as they walked over them. He had never been good at sharing his thoughts or feelings, and Roger’s request had left him unprepared. He remembered Liz’s voice once again, telling him he needed to open up. It was exhausting, being the tough guy all the time. Everybody needs to talk sometimes, right? He was just terrified of stepping outside of the hardened, stoic persona that he had been forced to develop over his lifetime.

“My dad…” Hellboy began. “ _Professor Trevor Bruttenholm_...was a good man.” He swallowed again, and looked upwards. He saw that Andras was still chattering to himself, and continued. “He found me after a man who was commissioned by the Nazis to summon a dark force through a portal into another dimension failed, and ended up bringing me through instead. I was just a baby, I didn’t know nuthin’...but when he found me, I think he knew right away that he was gonna take care o' me.” He looked over to Roger, and saw that he was listening intently. “I don’t think he had any idea what he was gettin’ himself into.” He snorted as he recalled a fond memory.

Roger smiled. “You love him a lot,” he said.

Hellboy nodded slowly. “I sure do,” he replied. “For a while, he was my whole world. Growin’ up on an airforce military base in New Mexico...there’s not much for a kid to do there. The Professor was always so busy, talkin’ to people and organizing troops...but he always found time to play with me.” He smiled toothily, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand. “Everyone always told him to just get rid ‘o me. That I’d bring “nothing but pain and fire”, and all that bull. I’m sure there were times where he was _mad_ enough with me, he could’a probably killed me, but…” Hellboy smiled sadly. “He never did.” He blinked rapidly, and turned his face away from Roger. “I wish I would’a been there for him more.” His voice wavered, and Roger could see the tension in his neck muscles. “He was always there for me, but...I sort’a left him.” Hellboy fell silent, and didn’t say any more. Roger could feel the sadness and regret emanating from his friend, and felt it within himself like a tangle of thorned and knotted brambles. He reached out slowly, and gently placed his hand on Hellboy’s shoulder. The man stiffened, but made no effort to shrug him off.

Sensing that Hellboy probably needed a break from the conversation, Roger made some space between himself and the other non-human and instead sped up in order to join Andras, who put a spigot in his outpouring of questions and commentary in order to greet the Homunculus.

“How far are we now, do you think?” Roger asked. Looking ahead, he could see that they had left the buildings of Vasvár behind, and were now following a dusty side road that would eventually lead them through the copse of trees stretching off into the distance.

“We’re about halfway there. Oh, just one second--” Andras held up a hand, and without slowing his pace, pulled on two separate release latches on either side of his helmet, and with an audible hiss, removed the cylindrical device from over his head. Sighing loudly, and smiling as the afternoon breeze made contact with the clammy skin of his face, he held the helmet between his arm and body and, after removing one of his gloves as well, began to scratch at his head and neck with renewed vigor. “Oooooh yeah...I’ve had an itch on my ear for the past two hours.”

Roger laughed as he watched the man’s display. Andras, upon closer inspection now possible due to the absence of the visor, had short, curly red hair and a face dappled with freckles like the surface of a pond during a rainstorm. His nose was short and stubby, and his bottom lip jutted out while his top lip was scarred due to what must have been a former cleft palate. He was clean shaven and had clear skin, save for a birthmark on his right temple. Pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose (now, with ease,) he turned to Roger and smiled.

They chatted amicably with each other for the next leg of the journey, Roger asking Andras about his life before the epidemic and Andras struggling to find conversation topics that would allow Roger to use his perspective. Hellboy remained silent as he took up the rear, but was perfectly content to marvel at the splendid, rustic nature laid out before him.

After what seemed like forever, but couldn’t have been more than just over half an hour, Hellboy was able to spot a small cottage nestled between the trees ahead of them. They fell silent as they got their first looks at the home; it was a quaint, homely structure topped with a triangular, clay-tile roof and a tall, brick chimney. The walls appeared to be cement, and were painted with intricate mural work in a vibrant mixture of colors. Erected in the grass sprawled around the base of the house was a clothes line, containing an apron, socks, and an infant’s pair of pajamas. The three looked at each other nervously.

“Do ya think they’re expectin’ visitors?” Hellboy said drily as he gagged inwardly at the ridiculously wholesome scenery before them. He was half expecting seven dwarves to come stomping out of the trees at any second.

“I don’t think so, but it wouldn’t hurt to go on and introduce ourselves, would it?” Andras said pleasantly. He kept a cool demeanor, but Roger could tell he was eager to meet the supposed miracle child. Nodding as a group, the three turned back towards the house and began to approach it.

Just as they were about to step onto the large, grassy plateau the house was perched on top of, they all froze as a woman appeared from behind the cottage. Hellboy gritted his teeth in anticipation; they all watched nervously as the woman turned towards the clothes line and began to gather the socks from it. As she moved away from it, she caught an eye-full of Andras, dressed sheepishly in his biohazardous materials suit, then to Roger, the stone-giant with the glowing eyes (who was waving and smiling,) and then to Hellboy, who stood taller than the rest and looked as though he had just stepped off of the train from Hell. Dropping her socks, the woman screamed piercingly, and raced through the front door of her home, slamming it loudly behind her.

“Understandable,” said Hellboy, nodding.

“We scared her…” said Roger , dropping his hand in disappointment.

“ _A kutya életbe!”_ Andras swore as he stomped his foot in defeat. “Hopefully she will still speak with us...I imagine that was quite the fright.”

“Maybe she’s just scared of our _rugged good looks,_ eh, Rog’?” Hellboy laughed, playfully bumping Roger on the shoulder with his fist. Roger smiled widely and laughed.

“Maybe we should go say we’re sorry,” Roger suggested, still chuckling. “And ask if we can please come in for a bit.”

Andras nodded thoughtfully. “Of course, I’ll have to do most of the talking since I doubt either of you know much Hungarian,” he said, smirking. As he spoke, Hellboy could see that he was eagerly searching the yard of the home for evidence of a nine-year-old child. Hellboy pushed him on the back, in the direction of the front door.

“Well, let’s get going, then,” he said shortly. His tail twitched nervously. He was glad he wouldn’t be able to understand all the colorful things that lady would have to say about them.

Andras, leading the group once again, approached the front door of the house. Looking down, Roger could see that the grass underneath them was ridiculously lush and green; his steps bounced as if he were walking on a spongy layer of loam. _Now that I think about it…_ he thought. _This whole glade is so verdant. The trees here are thicker and everything._ He was quite pleased.

They arrived at the door; it was painted like the rest of the exterior. Andras raised a shaking hand to knock, then paused and removed his glove. Exposing a clammy, speckled hand, he knocked on the door. They stood and waited, Hellboy sighing in annoyance. It had been, _what_ , six hours since he’d had any nicotine? Six hours too long.

After several moments, Andras gave it another try and knocked once again on the door. Immediately afterwards, the sound of furiously vindictive footsteps could be heard, and the door shook slightly with the vibration. Andras stepped back as the door was whipped open several inches, revealing a face that could have contained all of the fury in the world. Hellboy raised his eyebrows; he couldn’t help but feel a small bit of admiration.

“Mit akarsz?!” the woman hissed venomously, her eyes glowing as if they were burning embers in the heart of a bonfire. She was breathing rapidly, and looked as though she could strike at any moment. Andras raised his hands defensively, visibly trembling in his boots. They could all see that, in her right hand, she menacingly clutched a wooden, steel-tipped cane.

“Kérlek...csak beszélni akarunk…” he warbled, struggling to maintain eye contact with the woman. Even Roger appeared a little intimidated, and stepped closer to Hellboy for security. Hellboy wasn’t exactly sure he could take her.

Glancing quickly from man to man, the woman assessed them all individually, and refused to budge. She remained as though she were a doorstop, barring the way into her home and inevitably to the child they had all come searching for. Andras remained prostrated in front of her door, hoping that she would waver and allow them entrance. During this time, he could not help but look upon her; her skin was dark, and freckled like his. Her black hair was shaved down to her scalp, and her lips were full despite her pinched expression. She had a small scar on the bridge of her nose, and the pale skin stood out against her dark complexion. Andras found her quite beautiful, and his hands dropped slightly with his distraction.

She pointed her chin upwards, and looked down at the small, sweating man before her. She then looked piercingly again at Hellboy, who had likely caused her the most fright. Her lip twisted in disgust for a brief moment, but Hellboy watched in surprise as her gaze softened. She blinked as she continued to observe him, taking in his horns, his eyes, his chin, his tail. Hellboy felt rooted to the spot, as if he were unable to move, breath even. With a lurch, he realized where he had seen that look before; it had been the same one the Professor had given him, the day they had met.

Sighing in frustration, the woman’s body language relaxed, and she turned around and moved into the house. She had left the door ajar, and the three men took it as an invitation to proceed. Andras entered, almost stumbling as he clumsily stepped over the threshold. Still standing on the cement front step, Hellboy and Roger looked at each other.

“I wonder if she’s scared we’ve come to hurt her child,” Roger said thoughtfully, picking a sticky leaf off of his elbow.

Hellboy said, “I wouldn’t blame ‘er...I bet these two have been through Hell and back.”  He chuckled darkly.

Hellboy waited for Roger to follow after Andras, but the Homunculus remained standing where he was.

“We’re not going to hurt the child...are we?” he asked quietly. His expression was worried.

“Y’mean other than scaring the bejeezus out of ‘em?” Hellboy smiled widely. “Nah, Rog’, we ain’t gonna hurt ‘em.” Roger seemed to relax, and smiled wistfully.

“Hellboy, I want a house like this someday,” he said dreamily. “It’s so beautiful here. The nature is so healthy.”

Hellboy smiled warmly, and directed the other man towards the door with a hand on his back. “Yeah, Rog’...” he whispered. “I think that’d be swell.” They went inside.

  



	4. The Táltos -- Part Two

The interior of the woodland cottage was small, but accommodating, complete with a small kitchen and a fully furnished living room. The floor of the main hallway was layered with an ornate, tattered rug, displaying an image of a barn owl resting on a black tree branch. To the right, a narrow staircase rose upwards, leading to the single bedroom. The three men stepped gingerly through the hallway, Hellboy subconsciously wiping his hooves on the doormat before proceeding. He winced as he accidentally knocked one of his horns against an ensconced wall light, the glass ringing.

“Sure is roomy…” he grumbled, having to duck his head slightly to avoid the low hanging ceiling. They followed the sound of the angry footsteps preceding them into the living room, which was furnished with two cloth sofas and a shiny, wooden coffee table. Potted plants occupied almost every free surface in the living room, giving the interior a very natural feel. Roger grinned broadly, and had to restrain himself from introducing himself to each of the leafy decorations. As the three entered the living room, Hellboy stumbled into Roger’s back, for the first two had stopped suddenly and were staring at the contents of a small loveseat resting in the corner.

Sitting in the cloth, floral-print chair, was a very small child. Hellboy furrowed his brow, and looked confusedly at Andras, hoping the man’s expression would provide some sort of answer, but the other looking just as mystified as him. The child was smaller than any nine-year-old Hellboy had ever seen. Dwarfed by the loveseat, the child’s feet dangled in front of her, and the bones in her legs appeared knobby and pronounced. She had her hands, the size of soup spoons, crossed in her lap, and her thick, black hair was just short enough to reveal her enormous, piercing eyes. Her blue irises appeared as glowing discs in the subdued lighting of the salon, contrasting against the placid, dark voids of her pupils. Her eyes bore deeply into each of them in turn, but despite the intensity of her gaze, she appeared quite bored.

Roger shifted uncomfortably. To Hellboy, he whispered, “I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

“Yeah, me too,” the other whispered back. He could not help but notice that, true to Andras’s account, the child had six fingers on each hand.

The woman motioned irritably at the couches, and then crossed her arms. “Ül,” she barked. Andras looked to the other two, and nodded as he moved towards one of the couches. Hellboy and Roger followed, carefully maneuvering their bulky forms through the miniscule living space until they too were seated. Andras, trying to remain inconspicuous, tried to look back at the woman when he could, and could see that her brow was spotted with sweat, and she appeared very nervous. Hellboy kept his attention on the little girl, his apprehension only increasing as she unwaveringly gazed back at him. _I’ve got a weird feeling about this kid..._ he thought to himself.

“So, listen…” he began, still looking at the child. Before he could continue, the woman cut him off.

“Tudom, miért vagy itt,” she said. Her voice was low and, despite her wilting exterior, was full of conviction and intent. Hellboy broke off his staring contest with the girl in order to look to the woman. He almost flinched as he met her gaze, for he knew that she was absolutely furious. “Beszélni akar vele.”

Andras’s hands trembled as he sat up a little farther in the sofa, and turned to Roger and Hellboy. “A-Ah...she says she knows that we have come to speak to the girl,” he informed them, nodding towards the child.

Roger smiled. “Oh, that’s good. We are all on the same page, then,” he said. He looked to the girl, and withered slightly as he saw her expression; not only did she appear utterly devoid of enjoyment towards the situation, but she seemed quite resentful. He shuffled his feet together, and folded his hands in his lap. “Oh, my...I hope she isn’t upset with us,” he said quietly.

“I am not upset with you, stone man.” The voice surprised all of them; their faces marred by disbelief, they turned their eyes to the girl. She smiled placatingly, however her eyes remained unchanged; cold and reproachful. The woman stared in shock at her daughter, her eyes bulging and her mouth gaping as though her mind were moving too fast to speak. The little girl held up a hand to stop the woman. “Ne beszélj, anya,” she said. “I knew they would come.”

The woman, struggling to understand but nodding nevertheless, shakily took a seat next to Andras on the sofa. His suit squeaked slightly as she sat, and his body stiffened at her presence. Hellboy saw, and rolled his eyes. _C’mon, man, pull it together..._ he thought derisively.

Hellboy returned his attention to the little girl, and saw that she was already looking at him. Struggling to suppress his apprehensiveness, he said, “So, you can speak English?”

The girl smiled slightly. “Yes. I can communicate with all organisms on this Earth,” she explained. “I am sure you already know why this is.”

Andras appeared to be trembling violently, his facial expression a mixture of jubilation and nervous excitement. “Then it is true!” he stammered. “You are...you…”

“Yes.” she finished for him. “I am a táltos.”

Andras was briefly too shocked to move or speak, but then stood up rapidly and guffawed, holding his rubber-clad arms high into the air. His celebration was cut short when, looking down, he saw that the woman was almost withering into the sofa. She looked defeated, as though she had known this was coming and all of her attempts to stave off the inevitable had been for nought. He stopped, and abruptly returned to his seat. Clearing his throat, he spoke again. “Ah, so...it really is true, then.” He leaned forward, as though he were trying to become closer to the child in any way. “But...please, forgive me, _asszony..._ but were you not born nine years ago in Vasvár?” He swallowed nervously. They all had gathered that this was not a being you wanted to upset. “You could not be any larger than a three or four-year old.”

The child’s thin, dark lips appeared pinched, and she blinked slowly as she gazed at Andras. Despite having barely moved, she gave off the appearance of being exasperated. “Due to my _condition…_ ” she began. “My body has developed differently than a normal child’s might. Or, maybe it would be better to say...that my body has _not_ developed. While my mind, and my spirit are more vast than any being on this Earth, my body is hopelessly frail.” She smiled thinly. “You are correct, though, Tóth úr.” As Roger watched Andras, he could see the man flinch, and that he was incredibly uncomfortable, albeit interested. “Yes, I am aware of your surname. I am sure you know that I am aware of many things.” She smiled broadly, her tiny, children’s teeth shining like pearlescent pebbles of hail against a dark, stormy sky. For the first time, Hellboy remarked, she appeared entertained.

“I bet you probably know _why_ we’re here, then,” the half-demon intoned, his harsh voice startling the woman out of her fugue. She looked at him sharply, having not understood what he had said, but watched him carefully. He met her gaze, and flicked his eyebrows up and down jokingly, hoping to get her to relax a little. Her face only bended slightly into a snarl. Hellboy huffed, and slouched in his seat.

The child smiled again, and steepled her fingers together as she once again looked to each of them in turn. “Where are my manners?” she said, her melodic voice sounding almost as if it were coming from a doll. “My name is Alma. And she…” She gestured to her mother. “...is Annuska.” Recognizing her name, the woman straightened herself, but did not speak.

Andras smiled nervously. “I must say, it is... _very_ nice to meet you, Alma...my name is Andras, and this…” He gestured to Hellboy and Roger.

“Hellboy.” Alma’s voice startled them again, and Hellboy met her gaze with surprise. She was smiling knowingly at him, and the half-demon could feel her scrutiny through her eyes, as if she were searching his entire self despite already knowing everything that could be found therein. “I know who you are.”

Hellboy scoffed. “Great, join the freakin’ club.” He waved his large right hand dismissively. “I’m famous, even in _Hungary_.”

“I’m Roger…” the Homunculus said softly, a little miffed that he had not gotten an opportunity to introduce himself. He was paid no attention.

“You are famous everywhere,” Alma responded. “At least, with those who are like us, you are.”

Hellboy narrowed his eyes. “‘Like us’?” he asked.

The girl nodded in response. “Those who are special. Different.” Hellboy noticed that a trickle of resentment had crept into her tone. “You and I…” she whispered. Once again, her enormous, iridescent eyes met his. “We are not of them.” Her voice was like vapor, filling the room and the space around Hellboy. Her eyes held him in place, and he shifted uncomfortably as he felt indelibly stuck to them. It was as though all else fell away, leaving only those blue eyes behind as she spoke to him. Her face, like a dark disc floating in the void before him, mirrored his own deep-rooted resentments and insecurities. In that moment, he inexplicably felt connected to her. Unable to look away, he felt goosebumps lining the skin on his arms as her mouth opened, and resting there on her tongue was the first fatal sound to the name of the Destroyer, the Name to End All Names…

“Elég.” The woman, who had recently been identified as Annuska, spoke; her voice cut through Hellboy’s mind like a knife, and, shaking, he was freed from Alma’s oppressive grasp. The void fell away, and the vapor dispersed; he was once again sitting next to Roger on the sofa. The child made a _tsk_ sound in annoyance, and moved her eyes away from Hellboy. Roger and Andras were looking at him with concern, and the half-demon quickly composed himself.

Sighing, Alma crossed her legs together, and turned her attention to Andras. “Your friends and your neighbors are all ill…” she said purposefully. Despite being no larger than a porcelain doll, her level of composure was surprising to the suited man. She exuded power in everything that she did. “Correct?” She smiled.

Andras gaped, and chuckled nervously. “Ah...how did you know?” he asked.

“Like I said…” she responded. “I know things.”

Roger nodded thoughtfully, and placed his fingers against his chin. “You are very smart for a nine-year-old," he said. 

Alma turned to him, and smiled; Hellboy felt as though her expression was slightly condescending. “Thank you, stone man,” she said.

Roger shifted slightly, and frowned. “Just Roger is fine.”

“So am I correct…” Alma began again, dismissing Roger as she turned her attention back to Andras. “...that you require my help with the people of Vasvár?” Her melodic voice was the only sound in the whole of the room, save for the the sound of Annuska’s knuckles cracking as she tightly gripped the fabric of the couch.

“Yes,” Andras responded, imploringly. “Yes, you are correct. That is why _we_ \--” he gestured to Hellboy and Roger. “--have come to see you, to ask of you...the _táltos,_ if you will help us.” He was sweating at his brow, and Hellboy could not tell if it was from his nerves or the hot biohazard suit he was still wearing from the neck down.

Alma’s attitude changed rapidly, and she went from being a placating, bored superior to an angry, resentful plaintiff. “You must _also_ be aware, then…” she snarled, her ferocious expression contrasting darkly against her childlike features. “...that the people of Vasvár _exiled_ my mother and I those years ago, and _forced_ us to live here in the woods, as animals?” Her voice was deep, and her hatred was nearly tangible. Andras shrank back into the couch, suddenly appearing fearful underneath the knife-edge of her gaze. “And _you…_ small, rubber man...would have me _help_ these people?” She did not get up from the seat, but sat as tall as she could, but still appeared to tower over all of them.

 _Sheesh…_ Hellboy thought. _Somebody get this kid a booster seat…_ ”Yup.” In place of Andras, who was still cowering, Hellboy responded. “Do ya mind?” Alma’s impossibly resentful stare flicked to him momentarily, and then moved to her mother Annuska. She was looking at her daughter thoughtfully, and seemed to understand what had occurred despite not being able to understand English. They spoke to each other briefly in Hungarian, and then Annuska crossed her dark arms together and looked down at the ground. Alma also appeared thoughtful for a moment.

After a time, she spoke. “I don’t have a full understanding of my powers,” she said quietly. The confession seemed difficult for her. “But I have healed smaller things before. I can help things grow--” she gestured to the potted plants around her. They almost appeared to stretch their leaves and boughs towards her, as if absorbing something she emitted. “--but never on such a large scale.” Andras leaned forward as he listened to her, and Annuska also watched her intently. “But...perhaps the people of Vasvár will realize their guilt once they see what I can do?” She smiled mischievously.

Andras smiled as well, and whooped loudly, startling Annuska. He dove forward off of the couch, and knelt before Alma, who shrank back from him in distaste. Placing his hands on either side of her, he looked into her eyes and nearly wept as he said, “thank you, Alma _asszony..._ you do not know how happy this has made me! You are going to save our city!” He dashed the moisture away from his eyes, and Alma’s lip curled as she shrank further away from the man and his squeaky, sweaty biohazard suit. Hellboy saw Annuska rise potectively, and quickly went to put some distance between Andras and the child.

“Alright, alright…” he chided, putting his right hand on the man’s chest and sliding him backwards across the carpet. Alma appeared to relax slightly. “So, uh...when can we leave?” He looked to Annuska, who was standing by the side of the chair protectively. Alma raised one of her minuscule hands, and snapped her fingers twice, and Annuska immediately moved to raise her from the chair, and cradled her against her chest as one would do an infant. Andras stood up from the floor, and Roger joined the men. Roger looked to Alma excitedly.

“You _are_ just like a little doll…” he said absently, grinning goofily at the child.

“Do not call me that again, stone man,” she replied coldly. Roger stopped smiling. Hellboy frowned, and was about to say something in Roger’s defence, but was cut off by Andras’s excited commentary.

“It is important that we return as soon as possible, before anyone else perishes due to this sickness! Ah, please, Annuska _asszony,_ remember to wear strong-soled shoes, it’s a bit of a walk. Oh, it’s been so long since you two have been back to Vasvár! We have an excellent new community centre, and a skating rink, and--” he went on, unfortunately and habitually monologuing in the same fashion he would to a new visitor of Vasvár, being the tourism expert that he was.

“Be silent, Tóth.” Alma’s voice stopped him in his chant, and he sputtered like a kinked garden hose. Bowing his head, he said no more and merely gestured towards the door. Hellboy frowned harder, and shook his head incredulously.

 _This kid’s got an attitude problem,_ he thought. _Whatever, we can get this done and then Rog’ and I can be on our way._ Before long, they had all composed themselves in order to make the long walk back to Vasvár, and departed while the sun was still high in the sky.

 

A small cluster of clouds was approaching from the east as the group began to move away from the woodland cottage. Roger was sad to say goodbye to the beautiful, lush grotto he had come to feel at home in, but knew that he would probably see many more beautiful places in the future. They walked as a group for a short stretch, before dispersing into more of a line. Andras remained at the front, with Annuska, who was carrying Alma in her arms, and Hellboy and Roger once again took up the rear. Roger walked lightly, playfully swishing the drawstring of his coat as he walked. Hellboy walked much more heavily, staring intently at the back of Annuska’s head.

“Hey, Rog’...” he whispered gruffly, hoping that the mother and child would not be able to overhear them.

Roger edged closer. “Yes, Hellboy?” He continued to swish his drawstring, but stopped after accidentally slapping it against Hellboy’s hand.

Hellboy spent one more moment looking at Annuska before turning his attention to Roger. “Whaddaya think...about them?” He nodded his head toward the pair.

Roger was pensive for a moment. “Well…” he said quietly. “I wish that little girl would stop calling me stone man…” He looked down morosely.

“I mean, yeah, I don’t like that either, but…” He raised his eyebrows. “Do you think she can really do it?” Hellboy turned his head back to the front. “Heal all those people?”

Roger shrugged. “I don’t know much about Hungarian mythology,” he responded. “But she’s definitely a supernatural creature.”

Hellboy scoffed. “Yeah, that much is for sure,” he grumbled, remembering the cathartic experience from before. “Just be careful around her, alright?” He looked to Roger again. “She could be dangerous.” Roger nodded slowly before becoming distracted again. Hellboy resumed brooding, but quickly became lost in his thoughts.

He couldn’t help but reminisce once again about his father, the Professor. It was true that the Professor had told him about the mythos surrounding the táltos as a child, specifically the legend of the old man Göncöl. Tucked nicely underneath his Lobster Johnson-patterned blanket, the young Hellboy had looked upwards at the kind face of his father as he read to him from his own research notes, created during an expedition to Hungary many years earlier. Bruttenholm had spoke to him softly, telling a tale of a kind, altruistic old man named Göncöl who had the ability to cure anyone of any malady. He carried with him a special wagon, and travelled all across Hungary to help those in need. While there were very few documented cases of táltos in Hungarian mythology, they were described as being generous and personable. _Now sleep well,_ The Professor had said, kissing Hellboy gently on the brow. _I’ll see you tomorrow._

Hellboy blinked lazily, then returned his thoughts to the present. _So this little girl is a táltos too..._ he thought to himself. _So why’s she so nasty?_ As he continued to scrutinize Annuska’s back, he watched as Alma’s face appeared above her right shoulder, and she once again pierced him with a single, blue eye.

 

They arrived back in Vasvár just as the sun was cresting the halfway point between midday and sunset. Just before reentering the city limits, Andras adorned his biohazard mask once again, shielding himself from the airborne pathogens tainting the surrounding environment. Annuska became increasingly more emotional as they moved through the city, looking upon the buildings and monuments with teary eyes. She would frequently make comments in Hungarian, undoubtedly sharing memories she had had before her and Alma had been forced to leave. Andras watched her intently as she told her stories, often times responding to her and sharing memories of his own. He wasn’t able to emote very well due to the visor partly obscuring his face, but Annuska still smiled warmly at him and laughed at his poorly constructed jokes. Alma, still held in Annuska’s arms, rolled her eyes.

Hellboy snorted with amusement as he watched the disgusting display before him, and nudged Roger with his elbow. “I dunno about you, Rog’, but I’d say _those two_ are gettin’ pretty sweet on each other,” he said, grinning.

Roger smiled too, but his expression was vacant. “Sweet?” he asked, looking over at Andras and Annuska. They were talking about a nearby statue, depicting a little girl with a flower basket. “You mean like sugar?”

“Uh…” Hellboy rubbed the back of his neck. “Not like _sugar,_ but as in they kind of like each other, y’know?”

Roger’s eyes widened. “Oh. Okay, I understand you now,” he said, smiling genuinely this time. “So you mean they want to get married?”

Hellboy dropped his hand and squinted his eyes at Roger. “I mean, I dunno about that,” he said back, putting his hand into his pocket.

“But that’s what people who like each other do, right?” Roger asked innocently, watching the two as they gestured to a placard underneath the statue. “You marry them?”

“That’s one thing you can do with ‘em, but you don’t _have_ to,” Hellboy explained. “I mean, I dunno anything really about that sort of stuff.” He blushed slightly.

Roger shrugged. “Me neither. Kate told me a little bit about it but she said she’d tell me more when I was older, and then she laughed,” he said, smiling at the memory. “But I’m over five-hundred, so I don’t know.”

Hellboy chortled loudly and clapped Roger on the back jovially. Andras and Annuska moved over to where Hellboy and Roger were standing, and Hellboy could see that Alma was getting quite annoyed. She would have looked more intimidating, if she weren’t the size of a large handbag.

Turning towards Annuska, Andras addressed Alma in English. “This is about the centre of town, Alma _asszony._ Will this location work? Are you able to start doing...whatever it is...that you do?” he asked her softly. He seemed as though he were worried she would change her mind if he acted impolite or too forward. Alma looked at him disinterestedly, and waved her hand for him to move out of the way. He obliged.

Hellboy peered at the small girl once again, for he could tell that something had changed since they had left the small cottage in the woods. It was subtle, but she appeared almost to be slightly larger; more powerful. Her blue irises had become almost luminescent, and her very being almost seemed to thrum with an untold force of energy. Hellboy could not shake the feeling that what he observed before him was truly something malicious. He closed his eyes for a moment as an idea came to him; he didn’t think Andras was going to like it, and if it worked, then things were about to get hairy. Nevertheless, he turned to Roger and, saying nothing, began to root around in the pockets of his coat.

Roger smiled at him, and held his arms out so that Hellboy’s search could be conducted more easily. He looked over, and saw that Alma was distracted by something. _Good_ , he thought as he continued digging through the many pockets on Roger’s coat. Grunting, the fingers of his left hand connected with what he knew he would, given he was looking through Roger’s treasures pocket; a dustry, stripped, iron screw. He looked up at Roger apologetically.

“ _I gotta borrow this for a second, buddy,_ ” he whispered to the other as he withdrew his hand.

The other man smiled at him, and nodded. “Please give it back when you’re done,” he said.

Nodding back, Hellboy turned slowly towards the mother and child, and approached them.

“Uh...hey, kid. Can you help me out for a second?” he asked carefully, repressing the urge to flinch as her enormous eyes flicked on to him. “I just need ya to hold this for me.” He proffered the iron screw. Alma eyed the screw with distaste, and returned her gaze to Hellboy. She looked at him warningly, her expression dangerous. He could tell that the answer was no. “C’mon, just for a second? I gotta tie my shoe.”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion as she eyed him distrustfully. “You do not even have feet,” she hissed venomously, baring her teeth ever so slightly. Annuska watched the exchange with apprehension and curiosity.

“Well, ya got me…” he sighed, and shrugged his shoulders. Without warning, he gently tossed the screw towards Alma. Neither adult made much of the action, and so did not move to stop it; Alma, however, recoiled in horror, and made every attempt to avoid the falling metal, but to no avail. The screw innocently bounced against her knee, and then returned to the ground. The spot where it had touched her immediately began to smoke and char, and Roger quickly covered his ears as both Alma and Annuska began to scream. “Got ya!” Hellboy called triumphantly as he dove forward. Wrapping his left hand around one of Alma’s miniature hands, he tore her out of Annuska’s scrabbling arms and held the child aloft as the skin of her leg began to crack and blacken. Annuska continued to scream and wail as she tore at Hellboy’s grip, struggling to reclaim her child, but the man held her back at right-arm’s length. She wept and swore, but could only watch as the child began to transform.

A string of curses were emitted by the writhing, smoking creature that Hellboy clutched in his left hand, and Hellboy could see that the spot on her leg was now a glossy, black color. He could tell it was not the result of any burn or heat, but was a small portal to which he could see her true form underneath the guise that she had been wearing for nine years. Alma struggled to reclaim what she was so quickly losing, but it was too late; the black spot widened and enlarged until her entire leg was a shapely, lustrous void. Annuska abruptly stopped screaming as she saw just what was happening, and instead watched on in silent horror. Andras was watching from her side in a similar fashion, and Roger quickly moved over to Hellboy.

At this point, the “child” had almost entirely shed its outer shell; both of its legs were black, and as the effect quickly travelled up its body, its clothing fell down to the cobbles. The creature's hair fell out from its head, and as the mirage covering the face fell away, all that could be seen of what had once been was its pearly, now devilish grin, and its still enormous blue eyes. It no longer squirmed or fought, but merely waited patiently as the last inch of its skin transformed.

“Alright, now I gotcha…” Hellboy hissed, grimacing as he watched the disturbing transformation the child had undergone. The creature's only response was to laugh condescendingly as its right hand, the one that Hellboy had been clutching, turned black, immediately followed by its entire body slipping from his grasp, as though it were water passing through a funnel. In fact, it appeared as though its body had _liquefied_ ; its figure disappeared as the monster splashed down onto the cobbles, drenching their feet and shoes in a black, oily substance. Its voice could still be heard chuckling, but the source had become ambiguous. Roger lifted his foot in distaste as Annuska sank to her knees, gasping in horror.

She moved to touch the fluid with her hands, but Andras stopped her and pulled her gently to her feet. He consoled her in Hungarian, but she looked as though her world had ended.

“Shit,” Hellboy swore, watching as the black puddle began to expand outwards, increasing in diameter until it filled almost the entire street.

“Hellboy…” Andras stammered, nervously clutching his helmet. “I-I don’t know what happened, this isn’t...this isn’t part of táltos mythology, I don’t--” Hellboy cut him off.

“Relax, Andras, I know. I don’t think that little girl was ever a táltos,” he said wearily. “She got the jump on us, alright.”

Roger looked back and forth between them. “Then what is she?” he asked, concerned.

“A lányom…” Annuska moaned, her head in her hands. Andras tried to comfort her, but she pulled away. Hellboy grit his teeth, and turned around in a circle. He could see that the cobbles of almost the entire street had been covered with the oily, black fluid. As he watched, the fluid began to congregate in the middle of the street, drawing itself upwards into a tall, misshapen column of roiling black matter. The sound of Alma’s voice could still be heard reverberating around the brick buildings surrounding them, and as they looked around themselves fearfully, the pitch of the voice began to drop until it was as deep as the void of space. The child’s deep chuckling beat through their bodies, pounding itself into what felt like every cell in their brains. Annuska tilted her head backwards, and wept mournfully as her body trembled with the force of the creature’s laughter.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Hellboy shouted, drawing his pistol. He wasn’t sure what effect a bullet would have on the monster that was forming before them, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Roger quickly shrugged off his coat, gingerly placing it on a nearby doorstep for safekeeping. He joined Hellboy once again at his side, raising his fist and squaring his shoulders. The voice began to hiss, and the slick, black formation began to take shape. Andras stared up in horror as the monster grew to be at least eighteen feet tall; the black substance moved and swarmed, to form the body of an enormous torso. Its flesh was still the same glossy, black material as had been seen underneath Alma’s disguise, but now the voice called out as four enormous arms protruded from the main body, connected to the torso on either side of the figure’s bosom.

“ _If you were not fearful before…_ ” the horribly loud, ominous voice intoned. “... _t_ _hen you will be fearful now._ ” Hellboy grimaced as the voice laughed menacingly.

Roger appeared shaken, but stood his ground unwaveringly. “What is that?” he breathed. Andras quickly moved towards them, struggling to keep Annuska close.

“Th-that…” he gasped shakily. “Is a _fene_...it is a demon of illness and pestilence. I have only seen pictures, but...they are not supposed to be this large!” He swallowed, breathing erratically from inside of the stuffy hazard suit.

“Oh, this is just perfect…” Hellboy hissed, shaking his head. Resigning himself, he stoically raised his pistol once more, preparing to fire. He was just about to pull the trigger, when Annuska darted in front of him, holding her arms outstretched in order to shield the towering monster behind her.

“ _Kérem!”_ she wailed, wavering but standing firmly. “Tudom, hogy szörnyeteg...de ő a lányom!” Her teeth were clenched, and her tear-filled eyes burned with emotion. Hellboy was struck by them, and wavered slightly as he held his pistol. He tried to move his gun upwards, away from Annuska, but she darted forward and wrapped her hand around the barrel of his weapon.

“C’mon, lady, I don’t have all day to do this with you,” he growled angrily. He yanked the pistol out of her grip, but she did not move from where she stood. Hellboy was about to try something else when Andras’s voice startled both of them.

“ _Hellboy! Annuska!”_ he screamed frightfully and, looking up, Hellboy could see that the black monster was bringing an enormous dripping fist quickly down on top of them. Bellowing, Hellboy quickly grabbed the dazed Annuska by the wrist, and yanked her along with himself out of the way. They had just barely escaped being flattened to death by the deadly appendage, but were blasted forward by an iron wave of fluid, splashing outwards in every direction. They crashed painfully against the dilapidated brick wall across from them, and Hellboy slumped growling to the ground with Annuska on top of him. The woman appeared shaken, but without serious injury. She had begun attempting to get up, when Hellboy angrily grabbed her by the front of her shirt with his right, and pointed accusingly at the staggering fene with his left.

“ _You see that?!”_ he shouted at her, spittle flying from his lip. She stared back at him fearfully. While she now looked to be descending into despair, her eyes still burned with intense emotion. “Your _daughter_ , the _thing_ you’re trying to protect, just tried to kill you!” He shook her as he pointed. “That monster was _never_ your daughter!”

“Hellboy…” Roger’s concerned voice came from behind him. Hellboy started, and then released Annuska’s shirt. He sighed in frustration, but felt bad that he had resorted to intimidation tactics with someone who was obviously just worried about their child. He got out from underneath her, and stood up as rivulets of stone and dust fell off of him. He turned to give her an apologetic look, but quickly looked away as he saw that she was crying angrily, and pounding her shaking fists against the cracked cobblestone underneath her.

Hellboy quickly went to join Roger who was waiting for him nervously. The creature had been occupied the last few moments with reconstructing the fist it had liquified, and now had all four hands once again undulating and swinging around its towering body.

“What should we do, Hellboy?” said Roger as he quickly sidestepped a bowling-ball sized blob of black matter that had fallen from above.

“I dunno, buddy, but-- _whoa!”_ He quickly dove to the left as the fene swiped at him. “--we better do it fast, before this thing destroys this entire street.” Roger nodded, and started circling counterclockwise around the base of the fene. Hellboy quickly turned to look over his shoulder at Andras. “You know anything about how to stop this thing?!” he yelled tersely.

Andras’s head whipped towards him. “Ah...well, of course, most supernatural entities are sensitive to iron!” he shouted back. He and Annuska were standing shakily behind a broad lamp post, desperately trying to shield themselves. “I believe, uh...oh, what was it…” he trailed off as he struggled to remember. Roger called out as he dove to dodge the fene’s scrabbling fingers as they swept across the cobbles.

“ _Andras!”_ Hellboy shouted angrily, his impatience mounting. He wasn’t sure who he wanted to punch more; the monster or the Hungarian.

“ _Yes!!_ Yes, I remember now! It was salt and, and...and cedar ash!” he yelled back desperately, his voice muffled slightly by the helmet. “Those are weaknesses of the fene!”

Hellboy groaned loudly as he slouched with exhaustion. _Now where the hell am I gonna get salt and freakin’ ash?_   Recollecting himself, he began to strife around the fene to meet Roger around the other side. The creature began to hiss and chant in Hungarian as it lashed out at the nearby buildings, destroying windows and walls in its wake. The street was quickly filled with dashed bits of brick and shattered glass.

“Roger, you got any salt in that coat of yours?” Hellboy growled, breathing heavily.

Roger narrowed his eyes. “What do I look like, a spice shelf?” He grunted as he swatted a rock-sized lump of goop away from his head.

Hellboy snorted and couldn’t help but smile, but was quickly distracted as the fene released an ear-splitting scream, and brought all four of its fists down at once onto the cobbles on either side of Hellboy and Roger. It was obvious that the monster could not see well, but that wasn’t going to stop it from finding its prey.

“ _C’mon, Rog’!”_ Hellboy shouted as he roughly yanked Roger by the arm away from the beast. The four enormous, dripping hands quickly began sweeping together, and connected deafeningly  right where Hellboy and Roger had just been standing. Not wasting another second, Hellboy dragged Roger through the crushed front door of a nearby building. Releasing the other man, Hellboy quickly started searching through the front foyer of the townhouse, at once relieved to see that it appeared to be deserted, and distressed to hear the loud scraping noises the massive searching hands were making behind him.

“Why did you ask me for salt earlier, Hellboy?” Roger asked shakily as he watched the movements of the fene through the crushed front-facing window.

Hellboy grunted as he bent to shift a fallen beam away from the entrance into the kitchen. The floor was littered with smashed china and strewn debris. “That’s one of its weaknesses, _apparently,_ ” he explained. “That, and cedar ashes.”

“Oh, I see,” Roger responded. “I’ll look for ashes, maybe there’s a fireplace here.” Hellboy grunted in affirmation, and Roger quickly moved into a nearby living room. Not much could be seen due to the fact that the upper floor had collapsed on top of the main living area below. Roger gingerly picked through the debris, moving farther into the space until his heavy foot clinked loudly against something.

 _That sounded metallic,_  thought Roger. If he were honest with himself, his first thought had been a potential addition to his ever expanding collection of bottle caps and bent screws, but upon closer inspection, he saw that it was a long, metal rod with a curved point. _A poker!_ he thought excitedly. _Pokers go in fireplaces!_ He stooped and grasped the iron rod, dragging it upwards through the layer of dust and pebbles. He spent a moment admiring its slightly tarnished surface, and how light it felt in his hand. _This is nice,_ he thought to himself. _Very nice._ Tucking the poker under his armpit, he continued wading through the living room until he reached the opposite wall. A large sheet of cracked plaster was leaning against the ageing brick, obscuring what was beneath.

He had placed his hands on either side of the sheet, still pinching the poker underneath his arm and preparing to lift the plaster away from the wall, when the entire house began to shake. The fene ploughed one of its monstrous hands right through the blasted front entrance of the home. Roger could hear Hellboy shouting from the kitchen as the dripping, black fingers scratched long ridges into the floor of the building, searching for purchase in order to drag itself farther into the abode. Roger bared his teeth as he watched the hand move towards him threateningly, seeming to sense his presence.

 _Oh no, oh no…_ Roger felt distressed and hoped that maybe the fene would just change its mind and take its big hand out of the house. _Why can’t you just go away?_ Groaning with fear, Roger quickly turned back to the plaster sheet and tried to lift it again. Moving it with ease, he tossed it quickly to the side, shattering it against a wooden end table. “ _Oh!”_ he exclaimed, having seen what was revealed underneath. His suspicions had been correct; there was a fireplace tucked neatly into the wall, reaching an impressive three-and-a-half feet in height. A metal grille protruded out into the room, and a tall, brick chimney travelled upwards past the gaping hole in the ceiling. _But is there ash inside?_ Roger thought.

Furtively glancing behind him, he saw that the creeping hand had almost reached him, and was furiously digging away at the piles of rubble and getting closer with every passing second. Not having time to think of what to do, Roger quickly crouched down to the ground and began pawing through the bottom of the fireplace. He whined despairingly as his fingers only contacted with clean, swept cement. He looked behind him again, crying out as the hand jabbed at him with a sharp, vicious finger, catching him on the shoulder. It wasn’t a bad wound, but dark blood still seeped from the scratch marring his shoulder. Breathing heavily, Roger explored one of his last remaining options and, after batting away the iron grille, tossed the iron poker into the fireplace and climbed in after it. He moved in as deeply as he could, desperately trying to escape the fene’s onslaught.

“ _Roger!”_ The Homunculus could hear Hellboy screaming from inside the kitchen. “I’m blocked, I can’t get out! What’s your status?!”

A slick, throaty laugh could be heard emanating from outside of the decimated home. _“Your friend is about to meet his maker, Hellboy…”_ hissed the fene as it continued scrabbling at the fireplace. Roger frowned angrily as he pressed himself as tightly as he could into the fireplace, but felt a sudden sense of elation as one of his hands passed through something soft and powdered.

 _There’s ash in here!_ he exclaimed, relief flooding through him. He filled his fist with as much ash as he could hold with one hand, and crept closer to the opening of the fireplace.

“You stupid monster…” he growled, cocking his fist. “I was made by _Romanian scientists!”_ He flung the ash forward with as much force as he could muster, splattering the fene’s outstretched finger with a thick film of grey powder. The creature screamed with pain as it’s hand trembled and bucked violently, the now ash-covered finger spasming as black rivulets of fluid seeped from the sizzling digit. Roger scowled as his legs were spattered by thick spots of blood, but was pleased to see that the fene’s finger had almost completely disintegrated, and did not seem to be regrowing as had the fist previously.

“ _A holló vájja ki a szemed!”_ The fene screeched harshly, almost immediately retracting its hand from the house. Its pained howling could still be heard from the street outside, the noise rattling the few remaining windows of the crumbling front wall. Breathing a sigh of relief, Roger quickly began to extricate himself from the fireplace, taking care not to bump his head on the chimney. Moments later, a breathless and agitated Hellboy rounded the corner, and began making his way through the rubble.

“Rog’, I dunno what you did, but that thing is _mad,_ ” he chortled, picking his way over until he was standing next to Roger. “What _did_ you do?”

Roger smiled, and held up his poker triumphantly. “I found ashes inside this fireplace!” he said, grinning. “I threw them at the fene, and it just sort of...melted.” Hellboy grinned, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“That Andras was right...good thing, too, seeing as how I found this bag of salt in the kitchen.” He hefted a large, dusty burlap sack over his shoulder. “Why don’t you grab that jar on the mantle and start fillin’ it?”

  


Several minutes later, both men were equipped with the offending substances (plus one poker) and could no longer hear the howls of anguish coming from outside. They made their way over the hill of rubble, and stood in the foyer once again.

“Alright, here’s my plan…” Hellboy said quietly to Roger, who listened intently. After having explained himself, the two proceeded carefully up the crumbling staircase to the second floor. They stepped carefully across the dusty, carpeted interior; Roger experimentally prodded at the cracking infrastructure with his poker, testing to see if the floor was able to bear weight.

“Look, Hellboy, there’s a window in the master bedroom!” Roger exclaimed, pointing with the now-dusty tip of the poker. Hellboy nodded tersely, his face pinched as he concentrated on stepping lightly and carefully across the pockmarked floor. Roger began to move gingerly forward, keeping one hand on a nearby wall as he passed into the master bedroom. Hellboy took another tentative step forward, but shouted loudly as his hoof broke through the crumbling floor, trapping his leg in the jagged floorboards.

“Ah, _shit!”_ he cursed, scrabbling desperately at the floor in front of him in order to keep from falling farther. He sucked in a breath as the flesh of his calf was punctured by a sharp piece of wood, pain blossoming like a firework along the skin of his leg. Boiling hot blood seeped from his calf, staining the wood red and leaving steaming trails into the room below. Roger turned his head and called out to him, moving back towards the stairwell. Hellboy, his face pinched with pain, looked back at Roger who was once again testing sections of the floor with his poker. Hellboy was just about to speak again when a flash of movement behind the other man caught his eye; the previously empty window of the master bedroom was now filled by one of the enormous blue eyes of the fene. “Roger…” Hellboy said dazedly, meaning to warn him, but was too late.

The room exploded inwards as the monster, laughing whimsically, plunged its hand through the glass, filling the entirety of the upper floor with its roiling, black body mass. Roger’s screaming voice was drowned out as he was swept aside by the torrential mass, knocking him down a branching hallway. Hellboy twisted hopelessly, praying that he could get away from the horrific monster, but screamed in pain as he was ripped out of the floorboards, grasped tightly in the unforgiving grip of the fene. His leg bled profusely as long, ragged gashes lined the flesh; Hellboy whined in disgust as he felt the shards of filthy wood embedded in his calf tear up the inside of his muscle as his body contracted.

“Oh, you’re a _real piece of work,_ y’know that?” Hellboy hissed as he pounded away at the top-most finger of the fene’s fist with his right hand. In his left, he covertly grasped the inconspicuous bag of salt. The fene laughed, producing a guttural, animalistic sound.

 _“That, coming from the son of Azzael…”_ the creature hissed. _“Coming from the nephew of Satan!”_ Another bought of raucous, unbridled laughter sent waves of pain shooting through Hellboy’s head as his eardrums threatened to implode. He clenched his teeth with frustration.

 _“La, la, la,_ I can’t hear you!” he roared angrily, flinging the untied burlap sac forward. The fene’s laughter stopped abruptly as it watched the sac arc through the air, its trajectory almost perfect. It only had time to widen its enormous eyes before the sac innocently slapped against the bubbling, black flesh of its face; the burlap tore on impact, spilling its contents directly into the body mass of the fene.

Almost instantly, the monster’s flesh exploded outwards as the fene screeched piercingly, shattering every single window in a hundred-mile radius. Hellboy gagged as he was splattered with thick sheets of bubbling, smoking biotic matter as the creature waved his flailing body through the air in its torment. Scratching at its face with a free hand, the fene quickly dropped Hellboy and reared backwards as its left eye became red and swollen, before eventually rupturing and splashing the cobbles below with chunks of vitreous humor. Hellboy barked as his back connected painfully with the slick cobblestone street below, and would have otherwise taken a moment to rest but then would have been slashed to ribbons as the creature caterwauled and sliced at the air with its remaining hands. He crab walked backwards until he was a safe distance away from the beast.

“Yeah, that’s right, you piece of shit…” he said darkly, clamping his right hand around the ragged wound on his leg. He continued watching the fene from against the side of a nearby building, and saw that it was no longer able to support itself on its trunk-like torso. The monster dragged itself across the cobbles aimlessly, hissing and whining as though it were a boiling tea kettle. Very little remained of its face, save for a single watering eye and a misshaped mound of biotic fluid.

 _“You have ruined me…”_ the voice choked desperately as the fene probed searchingly around the street with an outstretched hand. _“I...your own cousin.”_ The inquisitive appendage stopped suddenly as it crept within a few meters of Andras and Annuska; the two were still trembling, now from behind a dilapidated wall. _“You will regret this.”_ The hand began to retract slightly, before readying to lunge forward.

Hellboy growled, baring his teeth. _“Roger, now!”_ he shouted, clenching his fist with anticipation. Having removed himself from his hiding place in the shadows, Roger leapt forward and raced towards the grounded head of the fene. In one hand, he clutched the tarnished fire poker, and in the other, the jar of cedar ash. Crying out with vigor and adrenaline, Roger whipped the jar towards the dying monster with the speed of a jai alai pitch, and with the other, he plunged the iron poker through the remaining eye of the fene, bursting it like an over-full water balloon. The creature released a final high-pitched squeal as what remained of its head burst outwards in a shower of tear-drop shaped shards. Having spent the last remnants of its life force, it fell still moments before it would have gored Andras and Annuska. The two watched with amazement and horror as the rest of the fene’s body dissolved into a wash of bubbling, black foam, permanently staining the grey cobbles a sickly, mottled rot color.

“Ugh…” Hellboy coughed as he leaned back, laying on the ground with exhaustion. He breathed heavily through his mouth, his right hand leaving his wounded leg. The bleeding was no longer as voracious as it had been before; although Hellboy could still feel the shards of wood scraping against his bone. He closed his eyes, and rested for a moment as he listened to the rapid sound of footsteps approaching him. Opening his eyes, he saw Roger’s pinched expression floating overtop of him, and the Homunculus stooped down to help him to his feet.

“Does your leg hurt?” Roger asked with concern as he allowed Hellboy to shift his weight onto the other man’s shoulders. The half-demon grunted, and limped next to his companion.

 _“No,_ Roger, it _tickles.”_ he hissed grumpily as they were joined by Andras and Annuska. “...sorry. Yes, it hurts.” Roger smiled toothily.

“Istenem...istenem…” Andras gasped as he tripped over a hardening mound of _something_ , grabbing on to Annuska for support. “I...I can’t believe you two did it!” He shook with excitement as he moved to hug Hellboy, but thought better of it when he saw the expression on the man’s face. Roger grinned and nodded, laughing as he looked back to the disintegrating mass still bubbling in the middle of the street.

“We did do it!” he called happily, jiggling Hellboy who chuckled in response while wincing.

“Hey, uh…” Hellboy spoke softly, looking up to make eye contact with Annuska. The woman’s face was drawn and tired, and she looked as though she simultaneously had lost her whole world and had lost a massive weight on her shoulders. “...sorry about Alma. I mean, she was kind of your daughter. I guess.” He trailed off, looking sheepish.

Annuska appeared somber at first, but shook her head and smiled back at Hellboy. “No," she said, simply. "Not daughter.” She turned to smile at Andras as well, who grinned back at her. Roger was about to speak next, when they were all startled by a sound nearby. As they watched, the door to a nearby townhouse opened. From behind the wood, the worried face of an older woman peered out at them; she still had a cold compress perched on her forehead, and she was dressed in nothing but a yellow muumuu.

“Hellboy, do you think…?” Roger whispered as they all continued watching as the neighboring house’s door opened, and a likewise dressed person peered their head out as well. “Do you think that maybe the _fene_ was the cause of the illness all along?” Hellboy nodded his head slowly as yet more confused, slightly upset people entered into the street; some were dressed in sleepwear, others had hot water bottles pressed to their abdomens. They all appeared to have recently recovered from the debilitating illness that had swept through Vasvár.

Trembling with anticipation, Andras once again shakily removed the helmet from his biohazard suit, and with moist eyes looked all around him as the street was soon filled with voices. He began to weep, and wiped emotionally at his eyes as Annuska gently patted him on the back. Roger began to pat Hellboy on the back too in an attempt to mirror Annuska, and Hellboy didn’t stop him.

“I’m sorry I lost your screw,” said Hellboy, grunting as he readjusted himself.

“That’s okay,” Roger replied, smiling. “I have a whole bunch of them.”

They stood together for a while, merely basking in the results of their strife and rejoicing in the removal of the terrible sickness that had almost destroyed Vasvár. When they were ready to go, Andras offered to lead them to the nearest clinic in order to treat Hellboy’s leg wound. The red half-demon declined, and instead asked for directions to the pub.

  



End file.
